Fermata
by kikofreako
Summary: Vinyaya's life is hectic enough with keeping peace in Haven. But when fate drops an unwanted burden in her lap, Vinyaya must learn where to draw the line between friends, family, and lovers. When to hold on. And when to let go. -between TLC & TTP-
1. Discovery

Welcome to Fermata! This story takes place in the time between _The Lost Colony_ and _The Time Paradox._ As is blaringly obvious, I do not own anything. I am also known as Target Aquired on artemisfowl.fangathering(com), and this story will be posted on their Fanfiction Archive also. Enjoy!_

* * *

_

_Chapter One: Discovery_

**Uninhabited Island, Florida Keys**

The Florida Keys have always had the makings of an international tourist hotspot: sea breezes, scuba diving, a laid-back atmosphere. A place where you can simply whittle away the day, lounging about in a hammock and sipping a martini. Droves of vacationers flocked to the archipelago every year, bringing the state of Florida considerable tourist dollars. While many of the keys were populated, the less accessible keys had remained relatively uninhabited.

Trouble Kelp was currently stationed in one of these small islands in the Dry Tortugas, although "stationed" may be too kind of a word. More accurately, he was lying half-submerged in tepid water, feeling mosquitoes buzz next to his helmet with the rest of his squad. Major Kelp had been handpicked, along with the rest of his squad, by Commander Ark Sool to supervise possible materialization sites of rouge demons. Foaly had hacked into the Fowl boy's computer and revamped his calculations for the umpteenth time, sending Trouble and his squad to locations such as Juneau, the top of Big Ben, the New Siberian Islands, and even the Taj Mahal. All stakeouts had been long, hard, and fruitless. Needless to say, many of the squad were tired of carrying out a task that could have been done by one of Foaly's light distortion projectors.

But Trouble was not about to give Ark Sool another reason to watch him—ever since the Opal affair where he had given Holly the benefit of a doubt (rightfully so, as it turned out), Sool had kept the major on a short leash. So if watching a muddy swamp for eight hours was what it took, Trouble would do it without question, and to the best of his ability.

Major Kelp shifted in the water, taking a headcount of his squad. They were arranged in a rough circle around Foaly's estimated area of materialization, all with specially modified weapons at the ready. Instead of the normal energy bursts, these guns shot pressurized darts filled with a formulated mix of tiny silver pellets suspended inside a pool of liquid sevoflurane. When the dart punctured, it would depressurize and deposit the silver into the bloodstream along with the sevoflurane, which would temporarily sedate the target. Point and shoot.

Chix Verbil was to the left of Kelp, idly flicking at a piece of foliage. Next to him was Private Ash Corrine, a new recruit to the LEP. Directly across from Trouble was Lili Frond. She was currently inspecting her reflection with her LEP communicator, using the quartz screen as an impromptu mirror. Grub was to the right of Frond, trying to swat away mosquitoes while remaining as still as possible. Lastly was one of Foaly's techies, Roob, who was there "to keep the Recon jocks from doing anything stupid." Roob was constantly twitching, his eyes bouncing around nervously. Roob scooted over and tugged Trouble's lapel.

"Um, 'scuse me," he stammered, "but… what I mean to say is…" He tapped his watch. "The optimal materialization time is in approximately sixty-five seconds, Major, sir." Roob tugged at his watch strap nervously, obviously imagining getting gored by buck demon horns.

Trouble nodded and signaled the group to cock their weapons (Silversevos, as named by Foaly). He loaded his own and titled his head to look down the sights, adjusting until the crosshairs were in the center of the target area. The grove settled, and Trouble could feel his squad lose their lax attitude and settle down for business. He activated his helmet mike. "All right. If there is a materialization, it will begin in approximately forty-five seconds. Captain Verbil and I will take the first shots. If we miss or the shots fail to penetrate, Corporal Kelp and Private Frond will fire. Private Corrine, you're to protect Roob and call in for backup if needed. Everyone clear?" Five heads nodded in unison. "Right. Maintain radio silence until materialization." The helmets were supposed to be soundproof, but Trouble was taking no chances.

Major Kelp turned his full attention to the site, senses alert and waiting for any sign of a demon. Everything was quiet—even the mosquitoes seemed to have fallen silent in anticipation. The seconds ticked by in silence, the only sound was the slight sea breeze ruffling leafy boughs. Trouble glanced at his watch.

_Six… five… four… three… two… one…_

Nothing. Trouble kept his hand on the trigger of his Silversevo, his eyes trained on the air. _Wait,_ he could imagine Julius saying. _Hold your position until all threats have passed._

Then, his skin began to prickle. There was a whining in the air, barely perceptible. Adrenaline seeped into the major's veins and he stilled completely. Blue sparks of electricity began to crackle in the air, bathing the small grove in a bluish light and throwing shadows against the trees and water. And in the middle—a hazy outline, quickly sharpening before Trouble's eyes. He waited, tense. If he shot too soon, the dart would simply whiz through the insubstantial demon. Too late, and it could be whisked off to Victorian England. The figure began to take more form, curled into a ball.

Trouble squeezed the trigger, with Chix following close behind. Both darts punctured, dumping silver and sedative into the demon's bloodstream. The foggy form snapped into reality, the insubstantial becoming solid. There was a small cry and the demon tumbled out of the air and landed in a large puddle, sending blue sparks scattering. Trouble held his position for a moment, waiting for the sparks to clear before going in.

Raising a hand, he signaled the squad and moved in cautiously. The demon was crumpled on the ground with long, dark hair floating the murky water. Trouble flipped the demon onto its back and started. It was a tiny _demoness._ She couldn't be any older than thirty in fairy years—about eight or nine by human measure.

Roob peeked out from behind Kelp's shoulder. "What in Frond's name is that?"

Lili looked skeptical. "This is what we're supposed to go to war against? She's a little girl."

"So what?" blurted Grub. "She's still a _demon_."

Trouble hoisted the girl up and shouldered his weapon. "All right," he said. "Pack up camp and move out. We approximately six hours to get belowground before the sedative wears off." Not that Trouble believed that this little imp could feasibly escape custody. From what Sool had been spewing, the demons were bloodthirsty monsters with hardly more brain capacity than a troll. This little demoness didn't look bloodthirsty or stupid. Just scared.

Trouble's soldier sense was buzzing in his skull. This whole affair was going to be trouble.

**Haven, The Lower Elements**

Ever since the demon affair three months ago, all LEP personnel had been clocking in serious overtime. Foaly and his techies were scrambling to calculate when and where Captain Short and the rest of the group would turn up, while simultaneously predicting increasingly-frequent demon materializations. Recon had been stretched thin, with Foaly sending officers to the far stretches of the globe to gather information and watch possible sites. The Council had been in session forty-four times over the last three months—a record that had been surpassed only after the Turnball Root incident. Wing Commander Vinyáya was just finishing her third straight shift and boarding a tram home when a message opened in her helmet visor, red-flagged for priority.

"Open message," she enunciated. Text scrolled before her widening eyes. Elbowing her way past muttering civilians, the commander rapped the back of the driver's headrest. "To Police Plaza," she ordered.

The driver opened his mouth to object, then caught sight of the Neutrino at Vinyáya's hip. He nodded and turned the starter chip, connecting to the magna strip. The tram rumbled into life, rumbling along slowly in the heavy traffic. "I should have been more specific," Vinyáya said casually, pressing a red button on the dash. Only the LEP used this particular button-- it overrode the strip and cleared it of all vehicles but the tram. "To Police Plaza _quickly_."

The driver obliged, whizzing through Haven at speeds that normally would have earned him a hefty fine. Vinyáya pulled off her helmet and activated the holographic screen. One of Foaly's new gadgets. Holograms weren't anything new—the People had been using them for centuries. But this computer was projected from her helmet, along with a virtual keyboard, and the hologram field itself was touch-sensitive. Her slim fingers lightly brushed the air as she called up the message again.

Trouble Kelp and his squad had finally come through—they had a demon in custody. Kelp was currently transporting the demon to Police Plaza to appear in front of the Council, where they could hopefully pump it for information. All the Council members were en route, in addition to Foaly and Major Kelp. Personally, Vinyáya was not overly concerned about the threat the demons posed to the People. She was concerned about aboveground appearances, which could have much farther-reaching consequences.

The tram hissed to a stop and Vinyáya closed the hologram window, brushing past the throngs of civilians outside Police Plaza with a flash of her badge. Foaly was in the lobby, arguing with a secretary. Vinyáya came up alongside him.

"No!" he snapped. "We need to close down all the South American chutes, not just the Florida one. We need Major Kelp's cargo _now_."

The secretary tapped a few keys. "What I'm telling you is that I can't do that, centaur. I've got a shuttle full of tourists coming in from Disneyworld. Unless you plan to strand two hundred fairies inside of a shuttleport for six hours." She sneered.

Vinyáya leaned over, brushing silver hair out of her eyes. "Pretend with me for a moment that your opinion actually means something," she began. "Now imagine with me what would be worse for your career: following orders from a Council member and detaining a few fairies, or letting a demon loose aboveground and having your career collapse around your pointy ears?"

Vinyáya had not reached Council by feminine charm.

The secretary paled. "A demon?"

"Yes," the commander said impatiently. "A demon. So are you going to do what I'm asking, or am I going to have to get Internal Affairs involved?"

"The Eighth Family, as you all know, is a hazard to the rest of the People," Sool lectured. "If even one demon is anchored aboveground, the results would be disastrous."

Chairman Cahartez leaned forward in his seat. "Really, though—what are the odds of a demon being anchored, since humans have no knowledge of how to do it? For Frond's sake, they don't even know about demons."

Sool wagged a finger at him. "Wrong on two counts. Firstly, a demon was anchored by chance barely three months ago, and we know what _that_ lead to."

Of course everyone knew. When Abbot had turned up in Minerva Paradizo's front yard and been anchored by a silver statue, the entire fairy civilization had nearly been compromised. "And," Sool continued, "There are also humans who know the procedure. Individuals that for some reason, have not been mind-wiped."

Vinyáya scowled. The fact that Root was gone was bad enough. That he was replaced by this grotesque _thing_ was enough to make her blood boil. "The Paradizo girl was the first to unravel the dimensional equation. Her knowledge of demons is enough to save her."

"For now." Sool shrugged. Vinyáya opened her mouth to retort, but was interrupted by a techies scuttling into the room. He whispered something in Sool's ear and left. The commander grinned. It was like watching a shark get a whiff of a wounded animal. "Our guest of honor has arrived. Major Kelp?"

The two double doors to the Operations Booth opened with a cinematic creak. In between Chix Verbil and Trouble Kelp was a small figure, hands bound with plastic zipper cuffs. The demoness was small, barely coming up to Trouble's shoulder. She had long, glossy brown hair falling down to the small of her back and over her eyes. Her figure was skinny and gawky, with petite hands gripping the hem of a sooty black shift. She stared at her feet, shoulders hunched, trembling slightly. An altogether unimpressive specimen. Vinyáya mentally quirked a brow.

"Major Kelp," Sool stated. "This is the demon you captured in Florida?" Trouble nodded, and Sool stroked his goatee. "Thank you, Major. Captain Verbil, you're dismissed."

Sulking slightly, Verbil left the room. Sool stood and approached the girl, his cane clicking on the tile floor. "Demon," he barked. "Your name?"

She remained silent, eyes locked on the floor. Vinyáya could see her small hands shaking. "I asked you a question," Sool spat, rapping his cane on the floor. "You speak Gnommish, correct?"

The girl did not reply. Sool's eyes narrowed. "You know about the demon invasion, I presume. Now you can talk to us now, or we can move you to Howler's Peak." He nudged the demoness' foot with the tip of his cane. "Jail. Behind iron bars." The silence stretched on uncomfortably. "When is the invasion?" Sool pressed. "What are their numbers? _Speak_!"

Foaly could hold himself no longer. "She's a child, Sool!"

The commander whirled. "Quiet, civilian. You're here to tape, not to make comments."

Trouble Kelp rose from his chair. "Yelling isn't going to help matters. Maybe we should just step back--"

"Step back and what?" blurted Chairman Lope. "Wait for an entire pride of demons to materialize and attack Haven?"

"No!" Kelp said hurriedly. "I meant that--"

Sool cut him off. "This is a matter of national safety, Major Kelp, not a daycare center."

Trouble closed his mouth but remained standing, his muscles tight. Vinyáya rapped the table. "We may not be a daycare center, Commander, but that doesn't mean that we have the right to interrogate small children."

"Well then, Chairwoman Vinyáya," Sool said, with a touch of mocking, "What do you suggest we try?"

Vinyáya seethed inwardly. No one could fill her with a blind, teeming bloodlust like Ark Sool. "Let her settle in for a day. Get her bearings. Then maybe she would be more willing to talk."

Sool's lip curled. "And where do you propose we settle her in? Unless you plan to put her in a cell, that is."

"She can stay with me," Vinyáya blurted, then stopped, aghast. Trouble Kelp's eyes widened and Sool snorted derisively. Chairman Svenska dropped his pen onto the table. It clattered onto the floor and rolled next to the demoness' foot.

"That is completely out of the question," Sool began, at the same time as Cahartez said, "That may actually _work_." Cahartez looked about. "Why not? The demon gets a safe place where the LEP doesn't have to worry about surveillance. Win-win."

Sool merely stared in disbelief. "_Win-win_? That's completely preposterous!"

Cahartez leaned back in his chair. "Let's put it to a vote. Majority rules." Which meant that five out of the eight members had to support Vinyáya.

"Fine," Sool spat. "Nay."

Svenska clicked his pen. "I think it's our best option now. Yea."

"Yea," Vinyáya said, amazed that her voice was still even and cool.

Lope's eyes were glued to the table. "It's too much of a gamble," he mumbled. "Nay."

"I trust Vinyáya," Cahartez said simply. "Yea."

"Fighting fire with fire only causes destruction," murmured Chairwoman Akiko, the only other female on the Council. Akiko was a famous fairy artist who resided just below Tokyo. "Yea."

Chairman Rikk Swift, a businessman from under Denmark, folded his arms. "Demons are unpredictable and violent. Nay."

All eyes fell to the last member, Matthias Trapini. Trapini bit his lip and shifted in his chair. "We're over a barrel right now, Sool," he said finally. "Yea."

Cahartez nodded decisively. Not something you got to do often in a room full of bureaucrats. "That's majority. Wing Commander Vinyáya will be responsible for the demon girl until further notice. Session adjourned."

The room relaxed, but ominous overtones still played about the air. Vinyáya rose, in a daze until Foaly clapped her on the shoulder. "Ever been a mother before?" he asked, grinning in his annoying horsy way.

"No, I haven't, and I'm not about to start taking tips from you," Vinyáya quipped, with much more bravado than she actually felt.

Trouble had removed a penknife from his pocket and was cutting off the plastic cuffs. Vinyáya knelt until she was at the demon's eye level—or at least, where she thought the eye level was. The girl's face was covered with her long hair.

"Hey," Vinyáya greeted, trying to sound both authoritative and friendly. "I'm Vinyáya." As if the girl didn't already know. "You're going to stay at my house for awhile, okay?"

The demoness didn't break her no-speaking trend. Trouble raised a brow at Vinyáya over the girl's head as if to say, "What did you get yourself into?"

Vinyáya was beginning to realize that it was much more than she bargained for.

--

After a silent car ride and a silent walk, the pair reached Vinyáya's flat. It was much like the commander herself: small and businesslike. And dangerous—if Vinyáya wasn't a police officer herself, most of the security items in her home would have been illegal. But she was, and ever since she had woken up staring down the barrel of a smuggled human rifle wielded by some B'wa Kell idiot, Vinyáya had outfitted her apartment with enough security to satisfy even Domovoi Butler.

"Don't leave the flat without me," she said to the demoness. "I've got quite a bit of security, and if you tripped an alarm--" She almost said, 'you'd be fried faster than a slug in a vat of oil,' but then reconsidered. "—you'll get hurt." Vinyáya mentally congratulated herself. Maybe this parenting thing wouldn't be so hard.

Except for the small issue that the girl hadn't spoken once. But hey, you couldn't win them all.

Vinyáya pushed open the door and walked inside, tossing her helmet onto a chair. "Um… make yourself at home." _Not like a time-traveling demon really has anything to unpack,_ she thought wryly. "I can dig up some clothes for you." Turning, she accidentally bumped the piano, dissonant notes breaking the silence. For the first time, the girl looked up, curious.

Vinyáya rubbed her hip. "What?" She followed the girl's eyes. "Oh. That's a piano. You press the keys here--" she demonstrated— "and it umm… makes sound. Each key has a different sound." If someone would have told her a week ago that she would be explaining the mechanics of a piano to a displaced demoness, she would have told them to stick their head into a microwave. "You can try it if you want."

The girl didn't speak but shuffled up to the piano curiously. Delicate scaly fingers reached for the keys, plunking them experimentally. Vinyáya stood there for about ten minutes, fidgeting awkwardly. Finally, she tapped the girl's shoulder. She recoiled as though scalded, falling to the floor.

Vinyáya pulled her hand back quickly. "Oh! I'm sorry." The girl was scrunched up against a leg of the piano, her knees pulled up to her chin. Vinyáya's gaze softened. "Listen," she said gently, "you're safe here. No one is going to hurt you, all right?" She met her gaze squarely. "I promise."

After a few moments, Vinyáya pushed herself to her feet. "Um, I suppose you can sleep on my futon--" Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that the demoness had pulled a fleece blanket and cushion from the couch and was lugging them both towards the piano. "You want to sleep… next to the… umm… piano?" After a moment's hesitation, the girl nodded.

"Well, all right." The commander knelt down again until she was at eye level. "How about this: you tell me your name, and you can sleep next to the piano."

The demoness' eyes slid to the floor and she remained silent, inspecting her armored toes. Vinyáya sighed and rose, rubbing at her eyes. It had been a long day, and tomorrow looked to be even longer. As her fingers brushed the doorknob to her bedroom, she heard a sound. She turned. "What?"

"Tieve." The voice was like rough velvet, whispery yet smooth. "I'm Tieve."

Vinyáya smiled. "Nice to meet you, Tieve. Now get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be a fun day." _Depending on your definition of "fun," _Vinyáya thought to herself.

She pulled the door shut, then turned to gaze through the crack between the door and the doorframe. The girl—Tieve—was running her fingers absently over the white ivory piano keys, as if the mysteries of the world were locked inside.

Vinyáya grimaced and fell onto her futon. Next thing you know, she'd be spouting Shakespeare to convicts.

* * *

This was mostly the introduction: getting used to the characters and my personal style of writing. I wanted to let you guys know a few things, since you're deciding right now whether to follow this story or not...

1) This story will have the same "rating" as the other Artemis Fowl books: K+ to T. Personally, I don't swear because of my values (I'm a born-again Christian).

2) Since this is a fanfic, Colfer obviously did not write it. But I am trying to use many of Colfer's favorite elements: dry humor, travelling to different places, etc. This will hopefully be a blend of Colfer's writing style with my own.

3) There will be absolutely no Mary-Sue's, darn it! There is nothing I hate more than a character who suddenly comes in and is superstrong/intellgent/all-powerful. No way. So if your'e worried about too-perfect characters, don't be. Everyone has flaws.

I hope that you enjoy the story! Reviews are awesome, especially constructive criticism. Flames will be ignored, you sillies.


	2. Education

Ugh. Guys, I am so sorry for not posting this up earlier! I was actually planning on putting it up last Saturday-- and then my life got CRAZY. Without ranting, I leave my house at 6:30 AM and don't get home until 9:00 at night. Then don't forget things like homework, showering, and actually getting a decent amount of sleep. Long story short: Sorry about the delay, and I hope that there won't be one like that again.

Now, _**READ THIS, IT'S IMPORTANT**!_ There's a cool feature I'm putting into this story: a soundtrack. Most chapters will have a song to go along with it. I have a Youtube address (just type in youtube(.)com and put in the string of numbers and letters to complete the URL) or for those of you that don't like links, the title of the video. All of them are also favorited on my Youtube account, ConAffetto. This isn't required for understanding the story, but in my opinion it really enhances the story. I have cues for when to start (and stop, if you'd like) the tracks to fit into the story. I'm not a mind reader, so I can't do it automatically. If and how you decide to use this feature is up to you.

Enough with the rambling-- on with the show.

* * *

**Chapter Two: Education**

Soundtrack: Final Fantasy VII – Aerith's Theme (Piano Collections)

/watch?vmwh3W1TwPTo

* * *

**Vinyáya's Flat, The Lower Elements**

Vinyáya woke with a start, her hand flying to her chest. She could her sounds of a scuffle from outside of her door. But who--? _The demon girl! _Vinyáya flew to her feet and pawed for the Neutrino nestled inside of her mattress. It was gone.

No time for that. She burst from the room just in time to see glossy brown-black hair disappear out the door. Shouts and muffled screams were growing louder; soon, the whole building complex would be awake. Vinyáya scrambled down the stairs, fifty feet behind the kidnappers. She yanked open the door and saw a sleek black car connected to the magna strip. A pair of goblins were fumbling with the starter chip, one holding Tieve under its burly arm.

"Tieve!" someone roared. Vinyáya turned to see Commander Root, and her heart nearly stopped.

"Julius!" she shouted. The goblins had opened the door and stuffed themselves and the girl inside, already peeling out. "Tieve!"

Julius raced for the car, pulling out his signature tri-barreled blaster. It was then that Vinyáya saw the car barreling down the road out of the corner of her eye. She opened her mouth to speak, and nothing came out. Her feet were stuck in the ground, the car was moments away from crushing—

"_Julius!_" Vinyáya screamed.

Her eyes snapped open and the commander drew breath sharply, her hands clawing at the thin coverlet. _A dream. It was all a dream_. Vinyáya fell back onto the pillow, dragging a hand across her sweaty forehead. Nightmares had plagued her since Julius' death more than a year ago. She had seen him die a thousand times in a thousand different ways, every time as terrible as the first.

(begin music)

A sound wafted through her door—not the sounds of a scuffle, but delicate keystokes on a piano. In last night's confusion, she must have left the radio on.

Running fingers through her long silver mane, Vinyáya opened the door softly. It wasn't the radio—it was the little girl. Tieve. Her back was to the door, shining hair falling perfectly to the small of her back. Her feet dangled six inches above the floor from her perch on the piano bench. Tieve's slender hands meandered along the piano, brushing the keys light as butterflies.

If Vinyáya would have had something in her hands, she would have dropped it onto the floor. Instead, she simply just stood, listening. It was amazing. Beyond amazing, it was as if all the tears and laugher in the world had been stuffed into the piano and then unleashed in music. The melody was sad and hopeful, melancholy and coy, beautiful and heart wrenching. Not words that Vinyáya applied often. And yet, they still didn't seem to do justice.

Vinyáya lingered at the doorway, trying to stay absolutely quiet. And then, she simply listened. The clock ticked on, forgotten in the wake of the music.

Tieve lifted her hands from the piano, letting the last chord linger. Vinyáya found that she missed the sound as soon as it was over, as if the music was a soothing balm on some unseen wound that she didn't even know that she had.

(end music)

As if sensing her presence, the girl turned and gasped. "Oh!" She looked down, wringing her hands. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you up, I mean--" Her words were rushed, panicked. "Please don't get mad, I won't ever touch it again!"

Vinyáya tried to process what Tieve had said. "Sorry? Why are you sorry?"

Tieve looked surprised. "The noise. I woke you up."

"Noise?"

"Yes." Tieve's eyes were glued to her feet. Vinyáya drew closer and gently placed a hand on Tieve's own. She flinched, but didn't pull away.

"Tieve," she said softly, "that was not noise. That was beautiful." The girl blushed scarlet—though it was hard to tell under the armor plates. "Where did you learn?"

"Learn what?"

"That song."

Tieve shrugged. "I don't know. I just kind of thought it and then I played it."

Vinyáya quirked a brow. "You made it up?" The girl nodded. "Where did you learn to play?"

"Right here."

"What do you…" The commander furrowed her brow. "This… this is your first time? You've never played before?" Tieve shook her head.

Vinyáya rocked back on her heels, thinking. Two possibilities: one, the girl was lying. Two: she was some kind of savant. Genius. Mentally, Vinyáya groaned. Dealing with Fowl, Paradizo, and Foaly was difficult enough, and Koboi had made her want to lock up anyone with an IQ higher than 140.

She became aware of someone tapping her on the shoulder. "Yes?" she said absently.

Tieve played with her hem. "Do you, um, have… anything to eat?"

Of course. The girl probably hadn't eaten since the capture almost twenty-four hours ago. This mothering thing was harder than she thought. "Let's go check the fridge," Vinyáya said, leading the way to the kitchen. She would deal with the piano issue later.

"Ummm…" Vinyáya scratched the back of her neck. "What do demons normally eat?"

"Grubs."

"…Oh." Vinyáya pulled the refrigerator door open. "I don't have any, er, grubs. How about…" She cast a look over the fridge. It was completely bare except for a few protein shakes, packets of ketchup from Spud's Spud Emporium, and a head of lettuce that was turning brown at the edges. The pantry fared no better.

Vinyáya turned to see Tieve with an open ketchup packet. "Tieve! Don't eat that."

"What is it?"

"Ketchup. Not good."

"What's ketchup?"

"It's made from tomatoes…" Vinyáya trailed off. "Do you know what tomatoes are?"

Tieve shook her head.

The commander glanced at her watch. She was supposed to start her shift in twenty minutes. Then again, she had been formally charged with the duty of taking care of this little girl. So technically, it was police work. Vinyáya grinned to herself. If Sool was going to use loopholes, than so was she.

"We're going to go to the supermarket." Vinyáya grabbed a brush and swept her silvery hair back, tying it up in a quick centaur tail.

"What's a supermarket?"

**Shopping Plaza, Lower Elements**

Vinyáya grabbed a shopping cart, wrestling it from its corral. "Why can people never put these things away right?" she mumbled. Part of her irritation was from actually having to do something domestic, like shopping. The other half was from the stares and whispers the demon girl drew. In retrospect, it probably wasn't a good idea to be parading a demon around Haven. _Too bad_, Vinyáya thought. If Foaly was right, and he usually was, then it wouldn't be long before an entire truckload of demons got dumped into the hands of Haven and the LEP.

Vinyáya glanced down. Tieve had retreated into herself again, silent and subdued, her eyes glued to her toes. Hesitating a moment, Vinyáya reached out and took the girl's hand. Tieve was still for a moment, then her small hand tightened around Vinyáya's. It was awkward and natural.

Especially since this meant that Vinyáya had to steer the cart with one hand.

"Okay, time to get some grub," she said, and then winced at the unintentional pun. Clichés, puns—what next? Knock-knock jokes? Pranks?

As they wove through the aisles, Tieve's curiosity began to outweigh her shyness, her eyes roving the shelves. Vinyáya wondered what it would be like—getting ripped out of your world and thrown into another one, everything completely different. Food, people, culture. Vinyáya had already had to explain that growling was _not_ considered polite in modern fairy culture.

As Vinyáya wrestled the cart through the produce section, she noticed a small cart with a fairy behind it, sticking a plate of something in the microwave. Free samples—perfect. That way, she wouldn't spend a bar of gold on something she found out neither of them liked. "Hey, Tieve, they're free." Motioning toward the gnome, Vinyáya smiled encouragingly. "Just go take one. You don't even have to say anything."

The girl shook her head, mute. Sighing inwardly, Vinyáya grabbed two tiny cups and handed one to Tieve, who peered at it curiously. "It's cheesecake," she explained, scooping out a bite with the plastic spoon. "A dessert."

The demoness took a nibble, and her face lit up. "Can we make some later?"

The last time that Vinyáya had tried to cook something, it had ended with her blasting the oven with her Neutrino, nearly getting kicked out of her flat, and Julius Root ribbing her for three and a half decades. So the commander usually stuck to takeout or kelp shakes. However, all of these logical arguments faded into trivia when Vinyáya glanced at the girl. "Sure. Why not?"

They continued on in silence for a few minutes. _Steering a shopping cart is much easier with two hands_, Vinyáya mused. Then, _what is that crunching sound?_

She turned to see Tieve eating the spoon.

_Frond help me._

**Operations Booth, Police Plaza**

"So, this is the infamous demon?" Foaly crossed hairy arms over his chest, watching the girl through the one-way mirror. She was currently reading children's books in the LEP interrogation room. "Doesn't look so scary."

Vinyáya rolled her eyes. "Hardly."

Foaly cantered over to his keyboard. "Excuse me if I'm being cynical, but I doubt you'd come over to Police Plaza for a casual chat. So tell me, what can I do for you?" Foaly's eyes twinkled mischievously, hungry for a challenge. True, he was swamped in demon work. But, number one: it was mainly number-crunching, which could be done just as well by techies and was mind-numbingly boring. Two: Sool had ordered him "to keep his civilian nose out of demon business." How could he resist a dare like that?

Vinyáya crossed to the screens. "To be honest, I think there's something… unique about her."

Foaly snorted. "Really? Besides the fact that she's a member of a species that was thought extinct for years? The armored plates? The hexes all over?"

"If the LEP wanted a smart aleck, we would have replaced you with Mulch Diggums a long time ago, Foaly. He would work for less."

The centaur pulled back, wounded. "No need to get touchy. So what's so strange?"

Vinyáya leaned in slightly. "I woke up today to my piano. And it wasn't the radio—it was Tieve."

"Tieve?"

"The demoness."

"Ah." Foaly gave her a sidelong glance, as if to say, _There's no use naming a pet you can't keep._ Vinyáya pointedly ignored him. "And what is so strange about this?"

"It was amazing," Vinyáya said frankly. "Like a professional recording. And when I asked her about it, Tieve said that she had never played before and had just made up the song."

Foaly raised a brow and turned to the screens, tapping the keyboard. "Just a minute, let me hack into your security cameras."

"What?!"

Foaly's screen split into smaller boxes as the video feed downloaded. "Please. I probably designed the system you use."

Vinyáya crossed her arms. "Make this a habit and I'll be designing the biggest pay cut you've ever seen."

Foaly whinnied. "You're just like Julius, you know that?" He immediately regretted the words as soon as they came out of his mouth. Vinyáya and Root had been close friends up to his death, and the pain of losing him was still fresh. "Sorry."

"It's fine, Foaly. Now, what were you saying?"

"Ah. Yes." He fast-forwarded the clip. "Yada, yada, holographic sunrise, demon wakes up. Looks around. Goes to the piano." Foaly pressed play.

It took Tieve a few times to hoist herself up onto the bench. She ran her hands over the keys, humming to herself. Foaly, the more musically inclined of the pair, realized what she was humming first. "It's the chromatic scale. She's humming each note." He leaned in closer, now genuinely interested. The clip played on, and the serene music was exactly how Vinyáya had remembered it to be.

Foaly stopped the tape, leaning back in his swivel chair. "I would say that she's lying about never having played before," he said, "but I seriously doubt that they teach demon music lessons in Hybras." Foaly adjusted his tinfoil hat unconsciously, which he had gone back to wearing ever since Koboi came out of her coma. "It's much like Mozart's behavior as a child." He tapped his fingers against the keyboard, thinking. "How about this: we give her an IQ test. I'll analyze it and we'll go from there."

"You're the expert."

Foaly sifted through a few files. "Have the girl come in here. I've got a quick one that should only take about two and a half hours."

"That's quick?"

"You have no idea."

**Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport, Taiwan**

When Billy Kong had finally escaped Green Island Prison, there were two things on his to-do list. Number one: buy a mirror. Number two: hunt down Minerva Paradizo and her demon friends, then kill them all in the slowest and most painful way he knew. Billy Kong knew more than thirteen hundred ways to kill a person. So he wasn't too worried on that front.

Kong was sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair, angling the small mirror slightly to better see his multicolored hair. Number one-- buy a mirror-- had been fulfilled at the airport convenience store. So, Billy Kong reflected, teasing his hair into tiny spikes, that left only number two.

"_Now boarding flight I-364 to Chicago."_ The annoyingly peppy announcer repeated her message in several different languages. Kong ignored her, pulling a fake passport and an address from his bag. He studied the address for the hundredth time. It had been one of the last things he'd managed to suck from the Paradizo brat's computer before the rest of the data had mysteriously vanished and every computer had crashed.

_Chicago Read Mental Health Center_

_4200 North Oak Park Avenue_

Kong stuffed the paper back into his bag and allowed himself a grin. Minerva and her demons had better watch out. Because he was coming for them.

* * *

Let the fun begin.

I really, really like it when I know people are reading my stories. So if you'd leave a review, even just to say you're reading it (three words, people!), it would help me out a lot! Crit is also appreciated.

Kikofreako / Target Aquired


	3. The End of the Beginning

Hey guys! The next chapter is here, and everything is getting ready for the story to really begin. Again, the songs are not necessary to listen to, but strongly recommended. That said, on with the show!

* * *

**Chapter Three: The End of the Beginning**

Soundtrack: August Rush – Bari Improv ( SoundTrack )

/watch?vLL7mZG9v3H8

* * *

**Château Paradizo, France**

Minerva Paradizo tapped her fingers against the desk, deep in thought. The tapping was soft—a thumping, not a clicking sound like long, manicured nails make when rapped against a table. She had always had a contempt for stick-on nails. They were good for absolutely nothing and got in the way while typing. Minerva's nails were much like herself—well-kept and short. As in short-tempered: at the moment, Minerva was growing more and more irate with herself. Which was better than usual, where she just got irate with others. Since the Fowl incident, Minerva had been trying harder to keep her volatile temper in check.

"Minnie, Daddy wants you."

Easier said than done.

"Beau, don't call me Minnie. Tell Father I'm busy."

"Minnie Minnie Minnie Minnie--"

"_Beau_!"

She could hear his footsteps as he scurried down the hall, giggling to himself. Minerva rubbed her temples and turned her attention back to the screen. After working three days, she had finally made a breakthrough on the temporal spell. It was all theory, of course, and the last thing Minerva wanted to do was to go to Foaly on naught but theory. She rolled the fairy communicator around in her palm absently, tugging at a corkscrew curl. On the other hand, if she was correct (and she hadn't been wrong yet), then Foaly needed to know as soon as possible, if not sooner.

Minerva placed the communicator on the table and pressed a small button. "Call Foaly," she enunciated.

**Vinyáya's Flat, Haven**

Vinyáya wiped a bit off egg yolk off her face. "Okay, we got the eggs. Now what?"

Tieve looked at the box. "It says to mix thoroughly."

The shopping trip yesterday had yielded some interesting results, including a box of instant pancakes—just add eggs, buttermilk, and margarine. Except for the fact that Vinyáya didn't exactly have buttermilk lying around the house, so regular skim had went in instead. Making instant pancakes was the closest thing that Vinyáya had done to cooking in two decades. She poured a circle of batter into a hot griddle, listening to the hiss and crackle with no small satisfaction. "Okay, so we flip it in three minutes?"

"Mm-hmm."

A comfortable silence fell. Tieve was still reclusive and quiet, but not as fearful as before. However, as soon as the pair was joined by other fairies, she would stare at her toes until they left. They were due to Police Plaza in an hour and a half for the results of Tieve's IQ test, which had actually taken four hours instead of two and a half. Vinyáya couldn't help but be nervous—any abnormality or special talent Tieve had meant that she was that much closer to Sool taking over care of the demoness. Which was possibly the worst thing that could happen.

Vinyáya flipped the pancake. "Tieve, would you set the table?"

"What's 'setting the table?'"

"It's when you put all of the plates and cups and silverware you need on the table to eat."

"Oh, okay." There was silence for a minute. "What's silverware?"

Vinyáya came up along Tieve's side, taking out a knife, fork, and spoon. "The long, pointy one is a knife."

"It looks different than the ones I've seen."

Vinyáya could imagine what kind of knives war-hungry demons would tote around. "This knife is just for cutting food. Then the fork is for picking food up, and the spoon is for liquids."

Tieve picked up each utensil, turning it over in her hands. "Why do they call it silverware? It's not silver."

Vinyáya slid the pancake onto a plate, cutting it in half. "I guess it used to be made out of silver."

Tieve picked up her plate and sat at the table. Vinyáya sat also, cutting off a small corner of her pancake with her knife. The girl mimicked her actions, watching carefully. The pancakes, surprisingly, weren't all that bad. Sure, they were a little charred at the edges—but better than grubs. Surely.

Vinyáya's pager buzzed at her hip. She flipped it open. "Foaly? What's the situation?"

"Emergency Council meeting. We need you here now."

"Right." Vinyáya rose from the table, snatching up her helmet. "Tieve, you stay here, okay? I'll lock you in. I shouldn't be any longer than two hours."

"Um--"

Vinyáya tugged at her boots and ran a comb through her tangled hair. It was times like these where she wanted to get a Holly Short buzz cut. "Here's the computer. You can find some piano music on there, okay? Page me if you need anything."

It was only when Vinyáya was on the tram that it occurred to her that Tieve probably had no idea what a pager was. Or how to use a computer. _D'arvit._

**Operations Booth, Police Plaza**

"So when you recalculate for dimensional flux," Foaly said, tapping the screen, "the entire equation changes. The new dimensional equation is here." He tapped a few keys and another formula appeared.

Chairman Trapini rested his chin on his hand. "And what does this mean for us?"

Foaly looked slightly shocked. "Um… well, I'm in the middle of calculating how this will affect Captain Short's materialization, but the figures aren't quite complete."

Sool was irate. "We already have too much on our plates, centaur. We don't need to meet every time you tie your shoes."

_Centaurs don't wear shoes, stupid_. Foaly ejected the disk. "Fine."

The Council began to file out. Foaly caught Vinyáya's arm. "Wait a minute."

"What, Foaly?" she said, exasperated. "I've got a demon waiting at home." He pulled her into the Operations Booth and after a quick glance outside, locked the door. "Foaly, for Frond's sake--"

"This is huge, Vinyáya!" he hissed. "I called that meeting so that I could get you here without arousing suspicion."

Her eyes narrowed. "And what exactly would we be suspicious about?"

Foaly brought up several windows. "I dug up some old demon information. I think that Tieve is a sorceress."

Vinyáya's eyes widened. "Evidence?"

Foaly sat down in his specially modified chair. Vinyáya followed suit. "All right," Foaly whinnied. "Demon magic functions differently than ours, and it's much more powerful. Fairies use the frontal lobe of the brain for magic. The frontal lobe is associated reasoning, planning, emotions, problem solving—the part of the brain that is more developed and capable of higher thought. When fairies cast, they focus on emotion and planning. But demons," Foaly pointed at a diagram of the brain on the screen, "their magic is housed in the temporal lobe. The temporal lobe deals with auditory stimuli, memory, and speech. Music."

The puzzle pieces were slowly coming together. "So demons are _musical_?"

Foaly chuckled. "Only the magical ones."

"Magical, musical demons." Vinyáya said flatly.

"Magical warlocks and sorceresses, to be gender specific. The warlocks—males with a magical gift—use their magic by chanting, mainly bass and tenor tones. They lead an a cappella choir of voices that they summon magically. Like the voice layers of the _mesmer_, except many times more powerful and the magic can be used for other purposes than hypnosis." Foaly called up another picture on the screen, bringing up a demoness. "Now, the female brain is different than the male brain."

Vinyáya rolled her eyes. "Such as, we don't find farting hilarious while men do?"

Foaly sniggered. "Right. For a demoness, they don't chant. They _sing_. A sorceress may use her own voice or instruments. After playing an instrument once, a sorceress can conjure all the tones that she played herself. So if a sorceress plays twelve notes on the violin, she can conjure those exact notes anytime she likes. Sorceresses back up their own voice with their own personal band. They can layer their voices also, but much less than that of a warlock. Usually, the maximum number of layers is three."

The commander grew pale. "So Tieve… her music… a sorceress?"

"That's what I believe. She didn't score unusually high or low on the IQ test. This is the only other plausible option."

Vinyáya drummed her fingers against the keyboard. "So, what do we do?"

"Keep this quiet. If Sool gets wind of this, he's going to be chewing nails and spitting tacks. I was planning to inform Trouble Kelp, so we can have some additional LEP support if need be." Foaly leaned in. "Vinyáya, there's more at stake here than careers. That girl has no training at all. If her magic is triggered and she can't control it…" Foaly shrugged. "We don't know how powerful she is."

Vinyáya kneaded her forehead. This was one of the many times that she wished that Julius was here. She could picture him: leaning against the keyboard with a cigar clamped between his teeth, barking orders. Confident. Rough. Determined. He'd jab at the screen with his cigar, and Foaly would make some comment about expensive technology, and Root would promise to slash his budget and move on to scaring the pointy ears off some hapless intern—

"Vinyáya?"

The commander shook herself. "What?"

Foaly quirked a hairy brow. "You're sure you can handle this?"

Vinyáya stood, pulling on her helmet. "The next time you ask me that," she said, "you'll be eating your own hooves."

Chicago Read Mental Health Center, Illinois, United States

Jon Spiro had always been fascinated with the mechanical. So something like picking a lock wasn't difficult-- especially when you had a spool of fine-toothed razor wire to help.

Spiro threaded the wire into the lock, twisting it deftly. No respectable asylum would use mechanical locks. Luckily for him, he didn't have any children who cared much to house him in the "best" of care. He walked down the long tiled hall, brushing past a security guard with a dart stuck into his neck. Some kind of sedative, probably non-lethal. Spiro didn't know and he really didn't care. After dismantling the security keypad, he pushed open the steel double doors and breathed in, filling his lungs with smoggy Chicago air. It had been months since he had smelled something other than antiseptic and cleaner. Months he intended to beat out of a few people.

There was a nondescript sedan idling in the drive. Spiro opened the door and slid inside, taking stock of his surroundings. The driver wore black sunglasses and an earpiece. In the passenger seat was Carla Frazetti, with matching shades and the typical black power suit. In the seat across from him was a small man, lithe and agile-looking. His hair had more colors than a bowl of Fruit Loops and more spikes than a porcupine. "Billy Kong, I'm assuming."

Kong flashed a grin that was neither warm nor inviting. "Spiro. Glad you see you could make it."

Spiro grabbed a bottle of water from a hidden cooler, unscrewing the cap. "Well, your offer was tempting. Thanks for the razor wire, by the way." He took a long drag of the water. "So," he said, grinning with a trace of madness that sent chills down Carla's spine, "how do you know Fowl?"

**Vinyáya's Flat, Haven**

Vinyáya jammed her chip into the door, disabling the dozen alarms. Thoughts buzzed around her head like bees. Did Tieve know? What about the piano, could that trigger anything? Vinyáya felt like she was staring down the barrel of a cannon and couldn't see the fuse. Like she was simply idling around to see if it blew up in her face.

She pushed open the door. "Tieve? I'm back."

There was no reply. Vinyáya's blood pressure kicked up another notch as she hurried up the stairs. _Stupid. Why didn't you just bring her along? D'arvit, d'arvit—_

Vinyáya let out a breath of relief when she saw Tieve's dark hair, bobbing along with an invisible beat. "Tieve? Everything okay?"

The girl exploded out of the chair and was onto Vinyáya before she could get out another world. "Vinyáya, I found all this—and there's this thing, a guitar—and the keys of a flute—and this amazing sound—and _Youtube_!"

Tieve seemed to have forgotten her shyness and was bouncing around like a child—_the child that she is_, Vinyáya reminded herself. "One thing at a time," the commander said, chuckling a bit in spite of herself. Tieve grabbed Vinyáya's hand and led her to the computer.

"There's so many instruments!" Tieve said, navigating to Youtube. Vinyáya furrowed her brow.

"You have a Youtube account? Wait, when did you even learn to use the computer?"

Tieve shrugged. "I watched the centaur. I kind of just clicked things until I got here." She opened up her Favorites panel and searched through the thumbnails. Vinyáya's jaw dropped and she glanced at her watch. She'd been gone an hour and a half. Tieve had 245 videos favorited.

The girl opened up a video and grabbed a guitar from a stand next to a futon. Vinyáya couldn't help but feel a tiny pang of guilt—it had been a 400th birthday present from Julius Root. She'd never gotten around to taking lessons. Tieve caught Vinyáya's expression and paused, immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have--"

"No, no," Vinyáya amended. "Someone in this house has got to play it."

Tieve smiled. She set the guitar down onto the floor so the neck was parallel to her, facing to the left. After a moment, she found the cord to the amplifier and carefully plugged it in. "I saw this guy playing and it was really cool. He did it different than other people." Leaning over, she pressed the PLAY button. The video sprang to life, with picture sharper and sound deeper, thanks to Foaly.

One of Tieve's hands thumped the guitar flat on the neck, sending the strings twanging against the smooth wood. The sound reverberated through the room, each individual string with a sound unlike that of its peers. Yet they all blended to form one collective sound, something new and unexpected. Tieve thumped the guitar again, and again, her head bobbing with a rhythm that Vinyáya herself could feel. She couldn't help but grin.

Tieve launched into her song, playing in time perfectly with the video. Her small fingers danced over the strings, coaxing and teasing the sound out. It seemed to fill the entire room, the entire apartment, the block, and all of Haven itself. Individual notes sang out from the quieter chords in the background, almost mimicking the sound of the piano. Tieve's hands slid over the strings, her entire body leaning into the music as if it was alive and embracing her like an old friend. Maybe it was. Vinyáya watched as Tieve closed her eyes, feeling the steel strings against her armored hands as if they had been there all her life. Her nails rubbed and plucked the thin wires, creating a waving reverb that meshed perfectly with the throaty backdrop of the chords that she created with each rap on the guitar neck. She launched into the main phrase again, intertwining melodies that seemed simple and complex at the same time. Some of the sounds shone through, others were barely audible clicks and twangs that you could hear only if you concentrated. It was intricate, it was simple.

It was over. Abruptly, Tieve smacked the neck once more, letting the sound linger. There was silence, as though all other noise had given up even trying to top what had just been heard. Vinyáya stood for a moment, trying to come back down to earth. She saw Tieve smiling up at her. "What'd you think?"

Vinyáya thought, trying to come up with an adjective. "It was astounding."

* * *

Vinyáya decided that she had cooked enough for the day (instant pancakes for breakfast and ramen noodles for lunch). So to give Tieve the total bachelorette experience, she did what every cooking-deficient female elf did—she broke out the leftovers. In this case, the leftovers took the form of cold pizza from Bog's Pizzeria. They sat on the floor, eating in comfortable silence. Tieve seemed happy to have a break from silverware and sitting at tables-- manners that were totally foreign to the demoness.

"Tieve," Vinyáya started, "can I ask you something?"

The girl nodded warily. Vinyáya thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to phrase her question. "When you play music, do you… feel different?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, there's something inside you that's different. A power, an adrenaline rush." Seeing the blank look on Tieve's face, Vinyáya tried a different approach. "When you play, what goes through your mind?"

Tieve shrugged. "I just do what feels right. I already know what to do." She paused. "Is that okay?"

Vinyáya smiled. "It's amazing, Tieve. The song you played on the guitar today was very good."

Tieve's face lit up and she looked down at her feet, seeming to blush. "I just copied what the human from the movie did."

Vinyáya pushed away her empty plate and stretched. "What's the movie about?"

"It's about this boy. He lives in this place with all these other children. They called it an orphanage. And so he leaves to look for his parents. And he really likes music. Like I do." Tieve rested her head on her knees, abruptly falling silent. She was quiet for several moments. "Vinyáya, they said orphanage like it was a bad thing. Is it… normal to know your parents?"

Vinyáya was awkwardly silent. "Well, different cultures do different things… but, yes. I mean, most fairies know their parents."

"Do you know yours?"

Vinyáya nodded. Tieve pushed herself off the floor, bombarding Vinyáya with a flurry of questions. "What were they like? Do they look like you? Do you listen to music together?"

Vinyáya couldn't help but smile. "Come here." She sat on the lone couch and pulled out a dusty book from inside of a dresser. "These are photos. Pictures of things that happened in the past. Most fairies keep them on their computers, but I guess I'm a little old-fashioned." She opened the book. "This is my mom and dad." She gestured to the two figures in the picture.

"She's wearing a really pretty dress."

"Well, they were getting married."

Tieve's eyes widened. "Fairies get _married_?" Vinyáya nodded. "We never did that. But I read about it in Lady Heatherington Smythe. It seemed really…" Tieve struggled for the right word. "…right."

Vinyáya smiled. Her mother was resplendent, as she was in all of Vinyáya's memories. Her hair was a cinnamon red, while her father's was nearly orange. Like her own, it had faded to silver over time. Both of them had bright green eyes and freckles sprinkled across their noses. That was one of the things Vinyáya missed about her youth—her own freckles. Gone now. She turned the page. "This is me as a baby."

Tieve giggled. "You were so little!" The demoness ran her hand over the picture. "Your mom was there when you hatched?"

Vinyáya couldn't help but laugh. "No, it's not like that. Elves don't hatch out of eggs like demons. They're born."

"Like rabbits?"

"Well… yes, I guess."

"That's weird."

Vinyáya shook her head, grinning, and turned the page. It was a class picture of about twenty fairies. "This is me when I graduated from the police academy. I always wanted to work for the LEP."

"Who are the rest of the fairies?"

"Well, some of them are gone by now. But I still remember quite a few. That's Bom Arbles, Matthew Trapini, Lope, and Aquka Sir in the back row." Vinyáya moved to the next row, thinking. "I don't remember most of these. The middle woman is Chairman Akiko. She dropped out of the LEP when her husband was killed in a firefight with the B'wa Kell gang."

"That's sad."

Vinyáya nodded and moved onto the last row. "That gnome to the right is Ark Sool." Tieve shuddered. "He was a jerk back in school too," Vinyáya said with a wink. Tieve cracked a smile. "Right next to him is Briar Cudgeon." Her lip curled in disgust, remembering. "Briar tried to undermine Commander Root and was demoted. Afterwards, he hatched some crazy scheme and it ended up getting him killed."

Tieve studied the photo. "Was he always bad?"

Vinyáya opened her mouth to speak, but then paused. "Well, no, I guess. He was always had an ego, but he wasn't cruel. It just happened over the years."

Tieve's brow creased. "How does it happen? How come people do that?"

"I don't know." Vinyáya turned the page, then flushed red and hastily shut the book. But Tieve moved too quickly, snaking her hand in between the pages. "What is it? Please?"

Tieve was giving her pixie eyes. Grudgingly, Vinyáya reopened the album, unable to resist her innocent question. Cahartez had somehow sneaked the picture during the welcoming gala in Police Plaza. It had been a heady night—graduation ceremony, receiving her first acorns, and then the police formal. The higher-ups showed up at the banquet and dance to meet the graduates and scope out future talent. The photo was worn at the edges, but still glossy and unwrinkled. Vinyáya's glittering red hair fell down to her shoulder blades and her face was upturned, smiling. Julius had his hands around her waist and hers were wound around his neck casually. It was the only picture that she had where Julius was actually laughing out loud. His young face was rosy and his eyes twinkled, face slightly red not from anger but amusement.

Tieve looked up at Vinyáya. "Who's that?"

Vinyáya cleared her throat. "That's just Julius. I mean, Commander Root."

"Commander? But isn't Sool the commander?"

Vinyáya's eyes hardened. "Yes. He took over when Root was murdered."

"How--" Tieve began, but then stopped. She was quiet for a few moments. "I'm sorry."

Vinyáya closed the book, standing. "You don't need to be sorry about anything. The person who did it is in prison now." She opened the drawer and put the album inside. "We should get to bed. Tomorrow's going to be a big day." Vinyáya unclasped her watch and set it on the end table, heading for her bedroom.

"Vinyáya?" The commander turned, her hand on the doorknob. "Are you… mad at me?" Tieve asked timidly, her voice nearly inaudible.

Vinyáya gave her a small smile. "No, I'm not mad at you."

Tieve smiled. "Okay."

"Goodnight."

"Night."

Vinyáya closed the door behind her. It was going to be hard to sleep tonight. Because every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was Julius' smiling face. And she couldn't tell whether she was dreaming or having a nightmare.

* * *

Poor Vinyaya... I just wanna hug her. As always, reviews and crit are welcomed with open arms and a bag of cookies. Mmm.

-Akiko


	4. Escape

This chapter is a little longer than the others, but justly so. Here begins the action. Foaly's quote (which I will repeat later) is not mine, but Blackadder's. Enjoy!

Chapter Four: Escape

Soundtrack: Carol of the Bells (by Germanseabass)

.com/watch?v=nrSgjgZzlLs

* * *

**Chateau Paradizo, France**

Spiro's hands flew across a keyboard, destroying firewalls like a child would knock down the walls of a sandcastle. The Fowl incident had cost him his sanity, but not his intellect. If anything, it was sharper than ever. Spiro's hunger for revenge had honed it to a fine, lethal point. Fowl broke the rules of nature. So Spiro would break all of his own rules. It was shoot to kill.

Billy Kong leaned over Spiro's shoulder. "This was all I managed to suck off the Paradizo girl's computer before I was locked out." He angled himself to the screen so he could see his reflection and began teasing his hair into spikes. "Can you get anything else?"

Spiro snorted. "Easy. After I finish off these last few firewalls we'll have all of the little brat's software. I can stall the data charge for maybe five minutes. Plenty of time to get the files somewhere safe."

Carla was antsy, which was something that didn't happen often. She could see what had happened to Jon Spiro when he had gone toe-to-toe with some kid genius, and she hardly wanted to muck about in the affairs of another one. "As much as I love listening to tech jargon, we've got a timetable. So let's just get the files and go." The Paradizo family was currently at a parent-teacher conference. No doubt that the smarmy Minerva was doing most of the lecturing.

Spiro cackled. "What, Carla, scared of a little Frenchie?"

She nearly whipped off a smart reply, but bit it back at the last second. _Don't shoot someone if you'd pay more for them than for the bullet you'd use, _her godfather would say. As of now, Spiro's technical skills and vast cash stores were paying the checks his mouth was writing. However, his insanity was becoming more and more of an issue.

After a few minutes of tense silence, Spiro leaned back, sliding a cigar tin out of his lapel pocket. "Good news and bad news."

Kong growled. Spiro ignored him. "Good news, we got about ten gigs of files. Bad news, there's another twenty that I can't touch from here. Remote firewall. I need to get to a secure location where I can spend a couple of hours, dismantle the hardware itself." He lit the cigar with a lighter disguised as a Bic pen. "Your turn, Billy boy."

Kong was too taken with the data scrolling across the screen to notice the jibe. "I think we've got some interesting reading to do tonight."

**The Bunker, Haven**

Trouble Kelp had been pampered from the day of his birth, along with his brother Grub. Mama Kelp had made sure that neither one of her boys was ever in need. Trouble, the more headstrong and independent of the duo, had been chafing under his mother's authority since he was in grade school. Grub, on the other hand, still called Mom on regular occasion, often on the job. It had earned him more than one formal reprimand and a few not-so-formal chew-outs when the two were off-duty.

Trouble had a fairly easy time adjusting to life on his own. His mother would hardly approve of the state of his apartment, which looked like a troll had been bunking there, but that wasn't her concern anymore. The one thing that Trouble Kelp had never quite gotten the hang of was cooking. Anything with more than five ingredients was officially off the menu. Trouble Kelp had lived off protein shakes, Ramen noodles, takeout, and Lucky Charms for years. So when Vinyáya called him up and invited him for dinner and chat (Trouble could only guess what about), he had jumped at the opportunity.

The duo were dining at The Bunker, a popular bistro in Haven. Trouble Kelp was halfway into his burger when Vinyáya finally set aside her soda and fixed him with a mischievous look. _She looks a little like Holly Short when she does that,_ Trouble noted.

"I know you're dying to ask questions, so go for it."

Trouble laid down his burger. "Foaly briefed me earlier." He unconsciously leaned across the table, lowering his voice. "So… is she actually showing signs off…"

Vinyáya sighed. "I don't know. She's a musical genius, no doubt. But we don't know enough about the demon brain to conclude a hundred percent that she has a magical gift."

Kelp quirked a brow. "At this point, do we really need to be one hundred percent sure? If she is a warlock--"

"Sorceress."

"Sorceress," Trouble amended. "If she is a sorceress, this could be a huge break." The major paused. "The question is what exactly would get broken."

Vinyáya said nothing. There was no one to train Tieve in the art of demon magic. Secretly, Vinyáya had no doubt that the demoness had a magical gift. But this painted a target on her head for not only fairies with evil intent, but also the LEP and Ark Sool. If Tieve couldn't control herself, there was the possibility that she could hurt someone. Magic was a wild force and it had to be tamed in order to be an asset, and there was no one that could accurately teach Tieve that control.

Vinyáya noticed an odd expression on Kelp's face. Her eyes narrowed. "Trouble, what aren't you telling me?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, thinking. After a few moments, he glanced at the security camera out of the corner of his eye. "Um…"

Vinyáya caught his gaze. She tapped a small button on her lapel. "It's whiteout. Any cameras or microphones within ten yards are going to be mysteriously malfunctioning. Anyone asks and I forgot to turn it off after work today." Her brow creased. "Why exactly would we be concerned with surveillance, Major Kelp? We're not doing anything illegal."

Trouble ran a hand through his hair. "Sool sent out a memo about the demoness."

"I didn't get anything."

"Neither did I," Trouble said. "But I was working a shift with Chix and I saw it in his inbox." He leaned forward. "Sool is looking for any excuse to lock her up and throw away the key. If there is an incident, this girl is going to be shut up in prison for at least half a decade until the bureaucrats sort it out. He instructed any officer with information about the girl to come forward."

Vinyáya tried to keep her expression under control. "Sool can't do that. He doesn't have the justification--"

Kelp snorted. "Justification? If there's any sort of damage, he'll skip the red tape. The Council will take another vote and she'll get yanked out of your care and thrown into someplace more secure. Police Plaza if she's lucky, Howler's Peak if she's not."

"She's a little girl!"

"They won't care. Not if another fairy gets hurt." Trouble paused, gathering his thoughts. "If she can't keep her magic under control, then Sool will tuck her away in some dark corner and pretend like she doesn't exist."

Vinyáya gripped the edge of the table. She'd known that it would come to this, but had desperately been trying to avoid the inevitable. Section Eight was no longer a safe haven of the LEP—it was trapped under Sool's iron fist. She felt Trouble's stare and lifted her eyes. "What will you do?" Kelp asked.

She was silent for a long while. "Why did you join the LEP, Trouble?" she asked.

He raised an eyebrow, curious. "I wanted to protect the People."

"That was my reason too." Vinyáya said, locking eyes with the major. "So if worse comes to worse, then I'll do what protects the People."

Trouble couldn't help but grin. "You sound like Holly."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Don't worry, it was."

Vinyáya smiled back, and then was serious once more. "Do I have your support? If something happens?"

Kelp nodded. "I'm behind you all the way." He picked up his burger again and took a bite. "So where is she now?"

Vinyáya unconsciously tucked her hair behind her ear. "With Foaly. I'm leaving her there tomorrow again while I work my shift."

"He and Caballine set a hitching date yet?"

Vinyáya shrugged. "Not yet. Foaly has been whining to me about how all the extra work is cutting into his jogging time with her."

Trouble rolled his eyes. "I never thought I'd hear that Foaly was complaining about not being able to jog."

"No kidding." Vinyáya looked at her watch. "I'd better go. I think he's had enough fatherhood training for the day."

"See you."

Vinyáya waved goodbye and exited the restaurant, hailing a cab. Trouble watched her go, then groaned aloud. She had stuck him with the tab _again_.

**Vinyáya's Flat, Haven**

After picking up Tieve from a bemused Foaly ("She hardly talks at all!" he had whinnied), the pair trudged back home to a well-deserved rest. Vinyáya could vaguely remember tossing her helmet onto the floor, then she must have fallen into bed. _And slept like a rock,_ she noted, looking at her face in the mirror. Artificial sunlight streamed through the window, throwing all of her bed hair into glorious display. Grabbing a brush, Vinyáya began yanking it through her silvery mane. She was due at Police Plaza in an hour, with orders to "pick up the slack." Which meant that she would be lucky to get off before midnight. Another long, tedious day loomed ahead.

But Vinyáya had not become a commander by loathing a challenge. Julius had been the same way. "The bigger the challenge, the better it is when you grind its pasty face in the dirt and laugh at it," he would bark. Not that he would actually laugh—Root preferred the face-grinding. Typical man behavior.

Vinyáya heard Tieve at the piano, humming something to herself. She walked into the living room, twisting up her long hair into a messy knot to fit under her helmet. "That's pretty," Vinyáya complimented.

Tieve looked up and smiled. "I'm writing a song. Foaly said that I should try."

"I see." The last thing under the world that Vinyáya wanted was Foaly mucking about with Tieve to confirm some magical theory, but the damage was done. Vinyáya tried to squelch the growing uneasiness in the pit of her stomach, choosing instead to grab a protein shake from the pantry for her and a miniature box of dry cereal for Tieve. "Okay, Tieve. You remember what we're going to do today?"

Tieve nodded. "You're going to go to work and I'm going to stay with the horse."

Vinyáya almost choked on her protein shake, trying not to laugh. "Foaly's not a horse, Tieve. He's a centaur."

"Oh." Tieve caught Vinyáya's muffled laughter and pulled a face. "Well, he _looks_ like a horse."

"I know," Vinyáya said, chuckling. "But let's keep that between us, okay?"

Vinyáya had barely dropped the demoness off to her impromptu babysitter when police chatter suddenly invaded her helmet. She could make out the terse voice of the traffic captain over the hubbub of chatter. _"I repeat, we need backup. Subject is moving at a high rate of speed north-northwest, heading for the chutes. Personnel near the vehicle cages, please page your availability now, I repeat--"_

Vinyáya quickly patched into his frequency. "Wing Commander Vinyáya, Lieutenant. I'm en route."

"_Roger, Commander. Corporal Kelp, drop out when the commander is within a klick's range."_

Vinyáya couldn't help but grin. She couldn't imagine Grub Kelp being much help in a high-speed pursuit.

She slid into the seat and expertly loaded the starter chip, pressing buttons and flicking switches. "Requesting green card," Vinyáya enunciated into her helmet. A green card wasn't actually a card—it was a code that overrode the magna strip and the car's internal speedometer, allowing police cruisers to speed and leave the strip without losing power. The cards had originally been carried by officers, but were eventually digitized and protected to prevent any felons or corrupt officers from stealing the cars to make a hasty getaway.

Vinyáya pulled onto the magna strip and turned on her sirens. The purr of the engine stirred up the adrenaline racing through her veins, and she grinned. High speed was what Vinyáya lived for—shuttles, cruisers, pods, it didn't matter. She flexed her slim fingers and wrapped them around the wheel, slamming the pedal to the floor and expertly laying a strip of rubber in the police garage. The janitors would not be happy about that.

Vinyáya heard the sirens long before she saw the parade of cruisers, one breaking off and slowing. Grub Kelp, presumably. She took his position and observed the scene before her. Five or six squad cars were following another vehicle in tight formation, trying to force it onto the shoulder. The car itself was an autoshuttle—a real-life equivalent of human Transformer toys. The cars could 'transform' into low-power shuttles, making travel much easier. However, auto junkies had quickly adapted it to their own means, souping up the engine until it reached ridiculous power. The autoshuttle's darkly-tinted windows and flashy paint job suggested that the driver was probably involved in some kind of illegal street racing racket.

"_Subject is continuing northbound, headed towards the Atlantica chutes. Stop sticks are having no effect."_

Vinyáya's brows knit together in worry. The Atlantica chutes were steeply sloping roads that were famous for illegal autoshuttle takeoffs. If the suspect reached the chutes, they would be extremely difficult to apprehend. "Roger that. Squadron, reformat into a supportive formation around me."

The leading lieutenant nearly contradicted her, but bit his tongue at the last second. _"Roger that."_

Vinyáya glanced irately at her dash screen. Her green card hadn't cleared yet, which meant she was stuck at the speed limit—unlike the autoshuttle, which was illegally wired and racing along and nearly seventy klicks. Sirens were wailing around her, clashing with police babble and honking car horns. The road was a blur, and Vinyáya focused all of her energy on staying in pursuit. She was falling behind, however—the customized autoshuttle outranked her in power and speed. _I don't think so,_ Vinyáya thought grimly. She may be outgunned, but not outwitted.

The commander pulled onto the shoulder, bypassing a slow-moving semi. She raced past traffic, craning her neck to keep the autoshuttle in view. Sure enough, he had been boxed into a middle lane and was getting slowed down by the heavy traffic. Vinyáya swerved off the shoulder the same time as the suspect squeezed between two cars and into another lane. She pulled up right behind him, keeping her foot to the floor. Pieces of his right rear tire were flying into her windshield, his rims shooting up sparks.

The sparks skittered dangerously on the magna strip before winking out. "All right, this suspect has officially become a serious danger to the road," she spoke into her mic. "I am about to attempt a PIT maneuver; all cars ready to backup."

The PIT maneuver was a longtime standby for both faeries and humans. The police would pull up behind the subject and tap one side of the rear bumper, spinning out the subject and forcing a stop. The maneuver was tricky, though, and had to be performed with perfect timing and aim.

Vinyáya waited for a gap in traffic, then pulled up inches away from the autoshuttle. She could see the driver glance into his rearview mirror, fragments of realization making its way into his eyes at what Vinyáya was about to do—

Before he could make a move, Vinyáya veered sharply, crashing into his bumper and sending shards of metal flying into the air. The autoshuttle was thrown across the road, its tires squealing in protest. Before the driver could turn the car around, the lieutenant neatly pinned him to the shoulder. Vinyáya unstrapped her seatbelt and threw open her door, her face flushed with the thrill of victory.

The suspect was already in plastic zipper cuffs by the time that Vinyáya had contained the scene, setting up police barriers to shield the group from curious civilians. The autoshuttle's passenger side was a mass of crumpled metal, with the side mirror snapped off. However, the driver's side was still completely intact.

"Nice PIT, Commander," the lieutenant complimented. "Textbook."

Vinyáya pulled off her helmet, brushing sweat-slicked hair from her forehead. "Has the tow shuttle been called in yet?"

"Already on the way. They'll impound it in the higher-security lot."

Vinyáya was about to ask another question when her helmet buzzed in her hand.

**Operations Booth, Police Plaza, Ten Minutes Earlier**

Tieve's hands moved gracefully over the piano, playing something that Foaly didn't recognize. It was something in minor, tinkling like a million tiny bells. Much different than the Riverdance dirges Foaly was used to hearing, in any case. Even though her playing made it slightly difficult to concentrate, Foaly preferred the music to the awkward silence of yesterday. The demoness hadn't said a word all day—just started the floor and played with her hair.

He sneaked another glance out of the corner of his eye, marveling. She was like Beethoven—not just gifted in music, but a protégé of the rarest kind. The demoness swayed with the music, the fluorescent lights bouncing off her dark hair. Foaly turned back to his keyboard, forcing himself to focus. There were equations to be worked out, demons to be saved.

Gnommish flashed across the screen, and Foaly tapped his hoof against the floor, his tail swooshing thoughtfully. He had the decay rate figured out, at least for the moment. Now what he had to figure out was the when and where—when they would return, and where that would be. Artemis would probably be in charge of the when—out of the group, he had the shortest lifespan and therefore the smallest range of time that he could remember and bring them back to.

Foaly decided to take on the Mud Boy's brain another day and instead focused on Holly—the where. Holly was an aboveground fairy, simple as that. There were thousands of locations that she could pick.

_But not that she _would_ pick_, Foaly reminded himself. Holly was a smart elf—she'd land somewhere that humans hadn't populated. He tapped in some keys, blacking out the areas of an onscreen world map with a population density of over two. That narrowed the field a bit, not accounting for her range of error—

Tieve's playing pulled him out of his thoughts. Foaly took a breath to speak, then stopped short. He wasn't a magical creature, surely, but he had been working with magical beings all his life. And so he knew without a fragment of a doubt that what he was feeling in the air was just that.

Magic.

It was heavy in the air, nearly visible but not quite. Like a cloud of gasoline fumes, just waiting for an open flame to explode. Foaly wheeled around and saw Tieve, oblivious to the world, her hands flying over the keys. _She's doing it unconsciously,_ he thought frantically. There was no way to stop it, nothing that could be done—

Foaly dived underneath the table and covered his ears. A split second later there was a gigantic _CRACK_ and then a force drove him against the wall, flattening him there like a giant's hand, shattering every single bulletproof window of the Operations Booth and sending shards of glass flying in all directions. The noise blew his eardrums and for a moment everything was pin quiet in the eerie silence after an explosion. Debris started to settle onto the floor.

Tieve was crouched down, her eyes wide with shock, fear, and wild elation. They met Foaly's own for a moment. Then she exploded onto her feet, throwing open the door to a storage closet and locking herself in.

Foaly levered himself up off the floor, surveying the damage. Pieces of glass and metal were strewn everywhere. Nothing was left of the windows. The computer was making an odd noise, beeping so fast it was almost a continuous whine. He could hear several LEP shouting into mikes and the sound of feet crunching over pieces of glass and metal. Tieve was locked in a closet and Foaly guessed that the key had been launched several klicks away in the blast.

It was then that Foaly grabbed a headset and dialed Vinyáya.

**Haven**

"Foaly?" Vinyáya asked, fiddling with her helmet mic. "Is that you? Is everything all right?"

Foaly was nearly screaming into the speakers. "All right? No, everything is not all right! She exploded the entire Ops booth, Vinyáya! D'arvit—I just stepped on a shard of glass—my new gas screens, Vinyáya! And they won't pay for it either, no, I'll have to cut it out of my budget!"

"Foaly--"

"D'arvit, Vinyáya. She's locked herself in a closet and the keys probably on top of Spud's Spud Emporium by now, for Frond's sake. Sool's going to flay us alive. He's going to kill us, bring us back, and then kill us again. And then he'll _really_ start!" Foaly's incoherent babbling was only sending Vinyáya into more of a panic. "_Caballine!_ --the ring was here somewhere--"

"_Foaly_!" Vinyáya shouted. "Stop! You're not making any sense! What exploded? Is she all right?"

"I think, she ran away--" Foaly stopped suddenly. "D'arvit," he breathed. "Sool. I have to stall. Get over here _now_."

Foaly hung up, leaving Vinyáya alone with her complete and utter panic. But she squelched it quickly—now was not a time for hysterics. She grabbed her squad car and put it into gear, peeling out for the second time that day.

--

Fifteen minutes later, Vinyáya burst into the Operations Booth. She stopped dead in the doorway, taking it all in. Pieces of glass and metal were strewn everywhere like confetti and Silly String. Fairies were crowded everywhere, bustling about with technical equipment. They obviously didn't know whether to clean up the mess or wait to analyze it. A large group was gathered around a supply closet—even Foaly was shuffling anxiously next to the door. To her relief, Ark Sool was nowhere in sight.

Vinyáya strode up to the closet. "What's happening?" she asked, instantly taking control of the situation.

Foaly glanced up at her, relief etched all over his horsy face. "Thank Frond. The demoness has locked herself in the closet. She won't come out for anyone." He paused, his face growing even paler. "Sool's on his way."

"Oh," Vinyáya said. "That's a little bit of a problem."

Foaly's jaw dropped. "A little bit of a problem? This isn't a problem. This is a _crisis_. A _large_ crisis. In fact, if you've got a moment, it's a twelve-story crisis with a magnificent entrance hall, carpeting throughout, 24-hour porterage and an enormous sign on the roof saying _'This Is a Large Crisis_!" His voice had risen so that he was practically screaming the last sentence.

Vinyáya scowled. "Your yelling isn't helping." She knelt next to the door before Foaly could reply, and she heard him taking deep, calming breaths. "Tieve?" she called softly. "It's Vinyáya."

There was no reply. She sighed, letting her forehead fall against the door. "Tieve, it's going to be okay. I'm not going to let anyone hurt you, okay? You can come out. I'm right here."

There was silence for the longest time. A techie was about to speak when the doorknob turned slowly. Vinyáya caught the demoness in her arms before anyone else could get their hands on her. "You scared me," she said, surprised to find that she actually meant it.

Tieve mumbled something along the lines of an apology into Vinyáya's silvery hair. The girl's scrawny arms were locked around the commander's neck, taut with fear and exhaustion. "What happened?" Vinyáya whispered into her ear. Tieve just shook her head and tightened her grip.

Vinyáya looked at Foaly, at a loss. Foaly wasn't angry anymore—he was at that point where panic gives way to despondance. "Sool's going to be here any minute," he said in a flat voice.

Vinyáya felt icy fear grip her stomach, glancing down involuntarily at the girl cradled in her arms. Sool would show no mercy—she would get thrown into some hellhole with maximum security. Her mind was whirling, and Vinyáya felt like she was on the verge of a panic attack, a nervous breakdown, or just sobbing for a few minutes. Vinyáya shut her eyes tightly for a moment. _What would Julius do?_

Julius would protect the People.

"Vinyáya?" Foaly said, jerking her out of her reverie. The rest of the fairies had dissipated, presumably on orders from Foaly. _For a civilian he sure has a lot of clout,_ Vinyáya thought off-handedly. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

Vinyáya stood up, feeling her knees creak. "Nothing. As far as you know, I just walked away to check something and I didn't come back. So I definitely do not need you to stall for me, to delay Sool, or to mysteriously find bugs in your surveillance software."

Foaly nodded, resigned. "Right. Good thing you don't need me to do any of those things while you're off checking. You know I really hate to break the rules."

The remark coaxed a grin out of the exhausted commander. "Right." She mouthed a thank you, slipping out the back door.

Tieve was still clinging to Vinyáya. The commander pried the girl off gently, yanking open the passenger side door of her cruiser. The reality of their situation was setting in, and Vinyáya could see the shock beginning to fade from Tieve's eyes to be replaced with fear. The girl was mute as Vinyáya slid into the driver's seat, pulling on her seatbelt and adjusting the mirror even though she could see fine. It was a comfort thing. "Tieve? You need to strap in."

The demoness didn't move. "Vinyáya… why are you running away?"

"Because they're going to chase us," she said absently, checking out the car's vitals. Plenty of power to get them to the launch pad.

Tieve turned to face Vinyáya, silently demanding her full attention. "They're chasing _me_. Not us." She suddenly looked much older, with weary eyes. "You should leave."

Vinyáya shoved the car into gear, glancing at the car's LCD screen. _Activate green card?_ it asked, the words pulsing gently. Her request had finally cleared, and Vinyáya couldn't have timed it better. She pressed the "YES" button and felt the car hum under her heavy boots. "I'm your guardian. So if they chase you, then that means that they also chase me." She winked at Tieve, which seemed an unnatural display of cheerfulness at such a dire time. "We're a unit now. An us. Wherever you go, I follow." She paused. "Well, except for the bathroom. You're on your own then."

Tieve let out a breath, trying to hide her grin. "Better strap in that seatbelt, Tieve," Vinyáya instructed. "This might be a bumpy ride."

Her first thought after she said this was, _I have to stop with these clichés_. The second was, _I wonder how fast this car can go with a green card._

No better time to find out than the present. Rules were thrown out the window now. Vinyáya slammed down on the gas pedal and the car shot out of the garage like the cork out of a wine bottle, nearly clipping off the left side window. Vinyáya heard Tieve gasp sharply, her hands flying out instinctively to grasp the seat.

Vinyáya pulled a U-turn and poured on the speed, her velocity quickly climbing. Lights were a blur, streaking together in the morbidly beautiful way that everything does when you're trying to escape death. The car crashed over a median, sending a few sparks ricocheting onto the magna strip. Vinyáya yanked the wheel sharply, spinning into a sharp right turn onto a set of stairs. The car groaned in protest, but she forced the car down the stone steps, focused on getting to her destination before Sool could call in the alert.

After about ten minutes, a large LEP logo came into view—the pod launching point. This was where officers could "ride the hotshots" when shuttles couldn't get you to the surface fast enough. Vinyáya didn't bother to park—she didn't even bother to fully _stop_ before unstrapping her seatbelt and jumping out of the car, leaving Tieve scurrying to catch up behind her.

Vinyáya burst through the glass double doors, shouting into her helmet mic, which was actually off. But no one else knew that. "Roger, I have the rouge troll on sonar and am en route. I'm boarding a pod as we speak."

The bemused secretary looked the pair over, her eyes flickering a bit in fear as she saw Tieve. "Ma'am? I'm sorry, but I can't allow you to take--"

"Don't care. I can override any of the rules here. I wrote them."

"But--"

"There's an angry troll aboveground, ma'am. This girl is helping me track it down. So shut up and get her a helmet and mouth guard." Rude, yes. But it was effective. The duo dashed through the hallway, and Vinyáya quickly keyed in her police access code and opened the pod bay doors. The titanium egg stood before them, humming quietly. It was in mediocre shape, with many dings and dents. "Get in and put these on," she instructed Tieve, shoving a helmet and a mouth guard into the girl's hands. She flicked down her helmet visor and climbed into the small cockpit, turning dials and switching switches.

The secretary hurried into the room. "Commander, ma'am, clearance from Police Plaza hasn't arrived and--"

Vinyáya didn't hear the rest, as she had already slammed shut the door and pulled Tieve into her lap. The girl was scared stiff, gripping the leather upholstery tightly. There was no time for that—Sool had arrive at Police Plaza. She could hear his voice through her helmet radio, barking orders in a frenzy. A countdown appeared on the dashboard, and Vinyáya slipped in her mouth guard. _Launch in five… for… three… two… one… initiate._

And with that, the pod was catapulted into the yawing maw of the chute. Vinyáya could feel the G-force pulling at her face, and glanced over at Tieve. Her face was a mask of horror and Vinyáya was sure that if she didn't have the mouth guard, she would be screaming her demoness lungs out. Then, Vinyáya heard the familiar rumble, and felt the wave of dry heat, and tasted the heaviness in the air. She'd felt the same thing thousands of times at the Academy, both as pupil and teacher. But the awe of nature never wore off.

The flare caught their tiny pod, spinning them like socks on a washing machine. Then the fins caught, leveling them upright as they shot upwards at thousands of klicks per hour. Vinyáya expertly maneuvered the craft through the chute. The heat was intensifying, and beads of sweat rolled down her forehead, her hair sticking to her face. Vinyáya could only imagine what this felt like to Tieve. The pressure squeezed at them, magma straining the rivets and bolts of the pod—

Then with a _whoosh_, they were out. The heat quickly receded, the entire pod shuddering as the hot metal began to contract as it came in contact with the cool air. The commander steered the craft as easily as a toddler would steer a tricycle, making a perfect landing. She yanked off her helmet, taking deep gulps of fresh, cool air. Tieve was on her knees beside Vinyáya, and it looked like she was kissing the ground.

She crossed to the LEP equipment locker and pulled out three items—an obscenely heavy jacket, a wing rig, and several sheets of cam foil. The jacket was lined with lead and blocked out all communications, which was extremely useful when you were trying to escape from an angry police force. Sool had discovered their absence, and Vinyáya could hear him dispatching officers up the chutes to flush the pair out.

Vinyáya strapped on the Koboi Doubledex and hauled Tieve to her feet. "Almost there, honey," she whispered. "Wrap yourself up in this."

Tieve wound the sheets of foil around herself like a mummy. "I'm invisible!" she said in astonishment, looking down at where her hand should have been. "Wow."

Vinyáya was not exactly in the mood to fawn over Foaly's technology, especially if he was still listening in to her frequency. His head was swelled enough as it was. "Right. Hold onto me, all right?"

Tieve obliged, wrapping her twiggy frame around Vinyáya like a monkey clinging to its mother. The commander fired up the Doubledex, bringing up her helmet map. They'd surfaced near the city of Beja, in southern Portugal. They needed to get somewhere safe, and that somewhere had to be close enough that she could fly there in her wing rig. Suddenly, Vinyáya groaned aloud. Of course.

Tieve looked up at her curiously, peeking through the foil. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"Well, I figured out where we're going to go," Vinyáya replied, "but I don't like it." She was exhausted, and every limb screamed in protest as she draped the lead coat over herself, blocking out her LEP communications and surveillance. "Hang on. I'd rather not have you splat onto the Pyrenees."

And with those elegant parting words, Vinyáya blasted them off into the starry Portuguese night.

* * *

Lots of chasing going on-- but where could Vinyáya and Tieve be heading? There is a bit of foreshadowing in that last bit, if you catch it. Foaly's quote was "This is a crisis. A large crisis. In fact, if you've got a moment, it's a twelve-story crisis with a magnificent entrance hall, carpeting throughout, 24-hour porterage and an enormous sign on the roof saying 'This Is a Large Crisis.'"

Reviews make me dance!

Akiko


	5. Loss

Hello, everyone. I'm happy to report that I caught up on my writing a bit (but am still working madly to stay ahead!) I've started using some French here. Translations are provided when the meanings aren't obvious already. I don't speak French, so if there's any grammatical errors, please let me know. I live in the US and the closest we get to French is Canadian speakers and our classrooms. To all the European readers out there– I'm bred with American spellings, mostly. There are a few exceptions where the European spellings seem more natural. Sorry if that bothers you. On with the show!

* * *

Chapter Five: Loss

Soundtrack: Bond - Duel

.com/watch?v=u1AvVo05TL4

* * *

**Château Paradizo, France**

Minerva took off her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose. The numbers on the computer screen danced and blurred in front of her eyes. She heard a doorknob turn quietly, and turned to see Gaspard Paradizo enter the room.

"_Bonsoir, _Minerva." The blonde returned the greeting, forcing herself to tear her eyes away from the computer screen. "It is nearing midnight," Gaspard said. "Don't you need to be getting to bed?"

Minerva sighed. "The surveillance equipment is still buggy, Papa."

Gaspard raised a brow. "I still don't understand why this is such a problem. I doubt we will be having any intruders in the house."

Gaspard Paradizo had been mind-wiped, along with the rest of the estate. All except Minerva. The fairy people were short one juvenile criminal mastermind with Fowl gone, so they'd had to settle for her. The only reason she still had all her memories intact was that the LEP needed someone functioning aboveground to help with the demon materializations. Minerva had already started dumping her fairy data in countless places for the day her luck ran out and a squadron of LEP officers would come to erase the last few months from her memory. So with Minerva being the only one who remembered the demon incident, it was awfully difficult to invent reasons for the upgraded security and the long hours spent in front of the computer with seemingly trivial problems. In all actuality, she wasn't working on the surveillance at all—she was trying to refine Foaly's time stream calculations.

"I would rather be safe than sorry," Minerva replied. Gaspard sighed.

"_C'est un travail de Romain_, Minerva. It's a Herculean task."

"I'll be up soon, Papa," she pleaded. "Please?"

Gaspard considered a moment, then relented. "All right. But try to get some sleep, _cherie_." He exited the room and Minerva turned her attention back to the screen. She tugged on a curl unconsciously, opening one of her countless files on demons. _If Qwan is utilizing sixty percent of his power while No1 is using eighty, the energy of the time stream would be redirected…_ There was a tiny blip of… _something_ on the screen in the millisecond that the file opened. An eye less trained to computers wouldn't even notice, but Minerva Paradizo immediately saw the glitch.

She immediately opened another file—an innocent photo album of a skiing trip. No blip there. She tried another demon file—there! The same thing. As if the program was compensating for something. Minerva's grip on the mouse tightened. _Someone has been here. Someone has been in my fairy files._ She was just beginning to isolate the bug when Minerva heard the doorknob turn again. "Papa, I--"

She turned in her chair and her words died on her lips. There was no one in the doorway—which actually meant that there was someone very important in the doorway. Minerva's hand snaked to the button under the cherry wood desk, pressing it and sealing the door. "Unshield, fairy. Now." This was said with much more bravado than Minerva actually felt—the pistol she had hidden in the study was ten feet to her left. Much too far to move in a split second.

Thankfully, this fairy was apparently not hostile. The shield buzzed down almost immediately, and Minerva could not keep the surprise out of her face. She recognized Wing Commander Vinyáya from her LEP ID photos, although the fairy before her looked much worse for the wear. She was draped in a heavy lead sheet. Clinging to Vinyáya was—

"_Mon Dieu_," Minerva breathed. "A demoness."

Vinyáya let the lead blanket slide to the floor, her arms shaking in exhaustion from holding it up. The girl was asleep in the commander's arms, and Minerva couldn't tear her eyes off of it. Different than No1, certainly. The demoness had no horns and was much skinnier than the imp had been—although she wasn't sure if it was from her gender or lack of food. She was dressed in a simple black shift with a hole cut out of the back for her tail, and long, glossy hair fell down her back. "_Mon Dieu_," she repeated.

"Glad you're so excited," Vinyáya drawled. "Heaven forbid you just stand there and do nothing."

Minerva scowled a bit, but relaxed. "You're the runaway here, not me. Why should I help you?"

"How--"

"You have a lead sheet to block communications, almost no equipment, you snuck in, and you look like you've been dragged across three continents. It's not rocket science." Minerva's eyes narrowed. "You're not a radical, are you? One of those kill-the-demon fairies?"

"Do I look like a radical?"

"Honestly?" Minerva said. "Right now, yes."

Vinyáya sighed. "As much as I love doing the 'witty banter with genius' thing, I've got more important things to worry about."

"Such as?"

"It's a long story."

Minerva crossed her arms, leaning against the desk. "I am not a complete idiot, Commander. I don't know what you're doing or if you have a plan, but I am not about to be suckered by a triple acorn badge. So talk or I'll trigger the silent alarm."

Vinyáya gritted her teeth. If this was what Fowl was like in the beginning, she could see why Holly Short had hated him. "I can't talk about it. Confidential police information."

Minerva scoffed. "Confidential? Foaly should know better than to hack my system. I know all about your 'confidential' Section Eight."

"Obviously not," Vinyáya snapped. "Since you don't know who she is--" Vinyáya motioned to the sleeping demoness-- "or what we're doing."

"I haven't been around to check the news feed for a day and a half."

"Oh, I understand now. You're not stupid, you're just lazy."

Minerva glowered at her, and Vinyáya glowered right back. "Believe it or not, I'm don't much feel like helping you, fairy," Minerva growled. Well, as much as a twelve-year-old French girl could growl. Vinyáya wanted to blast this little brat right into her fancy leather chair, but she kept her hands balled up by her side and forced herself to calm down. This childish arguing wasn't helping anyone, especially Tieve.

"Okay," Vinyáya said, "what would I have to do to get you to trust me?"

Minerva chewed on her lip, casting her eyes to the ceiling as she thought for several moments. "I have a few rooms with locks. I'll tell Papa that I have some delicate experiments inside so he won't barge in. You two have to be split up, and you'll be in handcuffs. While you get some sleep, I'll catch up on the news feed. Then we'll decide from there."

Vinyáya weighed her offer. Being in handcuffs was not high up on her "things-I-love-to-do" list, but she didn't have much of a choice. She could see why Minerva wouldn't want to take the chance, seeing as she looked like a beat-up terrorist. The curly-haired blonde wasn't their only option, but she was by far the best. And if anything happened, Vinyáya could always use her cuff-melting technique—rub your wrists together, get some magic sparks going, and _presto_. One melted pair of zipper cuffs.

"Fine," she said. "Wake me up when you're done reading."

Minerva crossed to the doorway, peeking out. "Okay, we're clear." They ran across the hall, and Vinyáya couldn't help but enjoy hearing the squelch of her muddy boots against the fancy Tunisian rug. Minerva keyed in the code to a fancy mahogany door, being careful to cover her hand so that no one could see. "Okay, the demoness can go in here. You're next door."

Vinyáya gently shook Tieve awake as Minerva unlocked the other door. "Tieve? Wake up. It's time to… um, go to sleep." So maybe she didn't exactly have the mothering thing down pat. Oh well.

Tieve yawned, only half-awake. Vinyáya set the girl down on the bed, unconsciously brushing a strand of dark brown hair away from her face. "We're safe, okay? I won't be able to see you, but I'll be right there."

Tieve caught sight of Minerva and nodded warily. "Get some sleep," Vinyáya said. "I'll see you in the morning."

The commander followed Minerva out the door and into another similar room. There was a large, four-poster bed—obscenely large for a human, never mind a fairy. The room was decorated in a tasteful ecru and beige scheme, with oak furniture and a security camera nestled in a corner. She could practically feel the money oozing out of the walls. Vinyáya turned, allowing Minerva to cuff her hands in front of her. "Sorry," the girl said apologetically. "I just can't afford to take any risks."

The rational side of Vinyáya saw the logic of this argument—but she didn't exactly feel like being rational at the moment. "Whatever makes you feel better," she muttered.

Minerva left and Vinyáya fell into the bed, asleep before the sheets had settled.

**Police Plaza, Haven City**

Sool was absolutely livid. He rapped his pen against the table, his eyes flitting around the room. All of the Council members and a few other VIPs were in attendance, all in various states of panic and anxiety.

Rikk Swift, one of the Council who had voted against placing Tieve in Vinyáya's care, leaned back in his chair. "I knew something like this would happen," he muttered, his tone accusing.

Foaly scowled. "Vinyáya is a decorated officer, Swift."

"So was Turnball Root," he countered. "Then he tried to wipe out half the city."

Foaly opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off by a wave of Sool's hand. "This is irrelevant. I don't care why she did it. What I care about is getting this situation under control before the press gets hold of it."

Trouble Kelp silently seethed in a corner, leaning up against the wall. Apparently, he and Foaly were not quite important enough to have chairs. "Isn't civilian safety the first priority?" he said, with a tone that bordered on insubordination. Sool noticed this and turned in his chair to fix the major with an icy glare.

"Your first priority, Major, is to do what you're ordered," he said crisply. "Right now, that would be to tell me everything you know about this… incident."

"I don't know anything."

"Nonsense," scoffed Sool. "You and Vinyáya were close. She must have said something to you."

Trouble Kelp was many things, but he was not a liar. Honesty was one of the virtues than his mother had drummed into him as a child, and he was loathe to give anyone a reason not to trust him. "She told me that she would protect the People. That's all."

"One person in particular," Lope mumbled.

Cahartez turned, his face reddening. "Vinyáya has been on this Council for years and you just turn on her?"

"She turned on _us_!" Svenska shot back.

"Go sell some curry, you progressive!"

The tension in the room erupted into an all-out shouting match. Cahartez and Svenska looked like they were about to start throwing punches, Lope was shouting at Foaly and Trouble, and the peaceful Matthew Trapini and Hoshi Akiko were looking like a pair of pixies that accidentally stumbled into a den of trolls. Sool pounded the desk with his fist. "_Quiet_!" he shouted. Trouble Kelp took slight comfort from the fact that his bellow was nowhere near Commander Root's.

The room eventually stilled. Sool glared at everyone, disdainful. "You're acting like a bunch of teenaged goblins, for Frond's sake," he spat. Ark Sool turned his attention to Kelp. "Commander. I have a squadron picked out to you. Go aboveground and ferret out Vinyáya. I don't care what you have to do to bring her back, just do it." Trouble nodded, feeling his gut tighten in apprehension.

Sool sat back down, steepling his fingers. "If I hear even a rumor that you're working with Vinyáya, I'll run you through Internal Affairs, put you on traffic duty for a couple of decades, and kick you out of the force. Am I understood?" Another nod. The gnome ran a hand through his oily black hair, leaning back in his chair. _No,_ Trouble corrected himself. _Root's chair._

"Vinyáya is going to be desperate," Sool said. "Her career is over. All that's left is the tribunal."

**Château Paradizo, France**

Minerva yawned groggily, forcing her eyes open. The side of her face ached terribly. She looked down and moaned—she'd fallen asleep on the keyboard. Her document now had 635 pages of the letter "Q."

"_Fantastique_," she muttered. Turning, she nearly fell out of her chair. This was not shaping up to be the most dignified day of her life. The demoness was standing only a few inches from her, her big brown eyes curious.

"_Mon Dieu! Vous m'avez effrayé,_" Minerva caught the girl's blank expression and switched languages. "You scared me!" Nothing. "_Tú hablas __español__? Deutsch? Italiano?_" No dice.

Minerva scowled. She didn't know Gnommish—although not from lack of trying. Foaly was so paranoid that Minerva would pull a stunt like Fowl that he'd locked any trace of Gnommish up tight, sending her everything in French and English. True, she'd made some progress with the firewalls, but there were other things higher on the priority list then. Now, however, it rendered her dumb to what was possibly her greatest ally.

Wonderful. Minerva stood there awkwardly for a moment, trying to think of a way to communicate that didn't involve Charades. She was interrupted by the demoness' stomach growling.

Motioning to the girl, Minerva started off down the hallway, headed towards the kitchen. It was a beautiful room—sparkling linoleum, custom appliances, and shinier than a jewelry store. Which was mainly because no one used it. The last person to frequent the kitchen had been her mother, who had left with Ulrich.

The blonde's jaw tightened and she forced the thought out of her mind. Pulling open a stainless steel cupboard, she inspected the contents. Six boxes of macaroni, a bag of corn chips, a stash of Beau's chocolate (Minerva threw that away), and a box of Pop-Tarts. She unwrapped a set of the pastries, which were chocolate-fudge flavored. The demoness munched away contentedly. Minerva glanced at the nutrition label—40 grams of sugar. The entire daily recommendation, stuffed into one fudgy package.

Oh well.

The girl finished the Pop-Tarts and looked at her. The awkward silence started again. Minerva shifted in her chair, and then her face lit up. Holding up a finger in the universal "wait" gesture, she scurried off.

Five minutes later, she returned with two violins in her hands. Vinyáya definitely would not like this. But Vinyáya was also sleeping on the job, which meant that this may be the only chance Minerva had to test this girl's true power.

The French girl handed the demoness some sheet music and was pleased to see her eyes flit over it, comprehending. Minerva lifted the violin to her chin, hesitating just slightly. Was this really right?

She played.

(begin music)

Things began slowly, with Minerva carving out a simple melody. Tieve echoed her, fitting in perfectly. Then things got a bit faster, accelerating slowly, building speed, an unstoppable juggernaut of sound. It was a fight, a duel between the two of them. Tieve's bow flew across the strings, matching Minerva with an intensity that startled her. There was more to this demoness that met the eye.

Minerva picked up the pace, unconsciously swaying in time as the music seemed to take her over. Tieve was totally lost, her eyes closed with a faint smile on her face. _Don't you see? _she seemed to ask. Her music could communicate what she could not. _I was born to do this._

For once, Minerva did not think about angling the situation to her advantage, plotting and scheming. She was gone, gone somewhere else. She had played this song dozens of times with her father, but no feelings like this had ever emerged. It was intoxicating. The violins got faster, hastening, flying to some other destination than a lonely château. The sheer emotion, the power behind the notes—it was hypnotic.

Minerva felt like Nero, fiddling away while Rome burned. Drunk on power and mad with euphoria. And they played on.

--

Vinyáya yawned, then groaned. Her body was one giant ache—she felt as if she'd just come out of a concrete mold. The elf rolled over with difficulty. Tieve was playing again, dash it all. Didn't that demoness know that it was dangerous? Vinyáya didn't want her to blow up her flat while playing a scale. Vinyáya glanced about the room, looking for her alarm clock.

_This is not my room,_ she thought. Then, _I'm in Paradizo's house. Tieve is playing._ And lastly: _D'arvit!_

The commander raced down the stairs, her untied hair streaming out from behind her and lending to the dramatic effect. She burst into the study just as the last chord sounded. (end music) Minerva was flushed pink with excitement. The curly-haired girl turned to Vinyáya, her face aglow. "_On croit rêver!_ I can't believe it! She is astounding, _à tout casser..."_

Vinyáya could feel her fists curl with anger. "I can't believe it either," she said coldly. "Do you know what you could have just done?"

Minerva scowled, obviously irritated that Vinyáya had destroyed her jubilant mood. She was still slightly out of breath, her eyes unfocused as if coming down from some great height. "I am not a complete idiot, Commander--"

"Well, you're acting like one!" she shouted. "Tieve blew up the Operations Booth last time she played something! Do you know how lucky you are to have all of your limbs attached?!" Minerva opened her mouth to speak, but Vinyáya cut her off. "Don't answer that. Look--" Vinyáya glanced at Tieve, who was looking frightened. "Tieve," she said, switching to Gnommish, "could you go to the kitchen for awhile? Minerva and I need to have a little talk."

The demoness mutely scurried away, recognizing a dismissal when she saw it. Vinyáya turned to the French girl and tried to rein in her temper. "I am not happy to be here," she said quietly. "This is one of the last places in and above the world that I would ever choose to be, all right?"

Minerva turned scarlet. "If you feel that way, the door's right outside. I don't remember sending you an invitation."

Vinyáya sighed. "I want to leave. But Tieve--" she pointed to the kitchen— "she needs to be here. She needs somewhere to be safe. And I will not let her out of my sight. So that means I'm stuck here too." The commander narrowed her eyes. "I will not tolerate you putting any of us in danger, got it?"

"Since when do you give the orders?" Minerva retorted. "This is human territory. My territory. You need my help, both hospitality _and_ intellect."

Vinyáya twirled a strand of silvery hair. "I could always turn myself in and tell my story. Sool is just looking for an excuse to mind-wipe you, and I know that you haven't finished all your preparations yet."

Minerva scowled. "Fine," she snapped. "But if I'm going to help you, I need to know some things. Running tests and the like. I need to know what exactly that girl--"

"Tieve."

"What Tieve can do. Blowing up a house could be useful," Minerva muttered. Vinyáya opted not to comment.

"All right. I'll watch over your… _experiments_. And you'll be less careless." She stuck out a hand. After a moment's hesitation, Minerva shook it. "Well then. That's settled."

The French girl settled herself in the ergodynamic computer chair, absently tugging a corkscrew curl. Vinyáya stood there for a moment, then huffed out of the room in search of Tieve.

**Grasse, France**

Carla Frazetti had long been a fan of perfume, especially with some of the ratholes she'd had to visit in her time. She had acquired a large collection of scents (most stolen from laboratories around the world) and always carried a bottle with her. So when they had left Château Paradizo, their destination was the one thing that had brightened her day: Grasse, _la capitale mondiale des parfums._ The perfume capital of France.

Carla tried not to fidget, stranded at a wrought-iron table in some flouncy café, just yards away from a perfume boutique. She was a vicious gangster, not some kind of beauty store diva.

Still…

Kong was checking his hair in the mirror for the umpteenth time, teasing his spikes into even sharper points. Frazetti glanced at her Rado watch. Half and hour before their train left. Then another two hour jaunt to Marseille, a brief stay, then off to one of Spiro's little hidey holes. Spiro himself was reading over one of the brat's documents, his eyes glittering.

"A hostage fund," he breathed. "Looks like the Fowl kid did something right after all." The businessman rubbed his hands together gleefully, his lips twisting into sardonic grin. "That kid had better enjoy those seconds when he gets back from the time stream, because the rest of his life after that isn't going to be so peaceful."

Their little trio had made quite the discoveries on Minerva Paradizo's computers. While most of the more sensitive material was tucked away on a remote server, a goldmine of information was on her personal hard drive at the Château. All the vitals on the People—Frazetti's mind still couldn't reconcile herself that there were fairies under her feet—and the events of the last few years. Along with a cache of information on the notorious Artemis Fowl II, which Spiro had been thrilled with. Kong was more interested in the demon files.

Spiro had played a bit of hocus pocus with some airline's booking systems, and all incoming flights to their destination had been cancelled. No nasty surprises from the French—or the LEB. LEP. Whatever. The chaos at Customs would be an added bonus—they wouldn't have to shoot anyone to get past. Probably.

Truth be told, Carla Frazetti was as uneasy as a turkey on Thanksgiving Day. These two men were violent, sure, but she made a living around violent people. But they were also insane and ridiculously powerful. Even if Carla had been in Chicago with the Mob at her back, Kong likely had connections with the snakehead crime circle in Thailand, along with a few old friends of Spiro that were sure to shoot first and ask questions later. As of now, she was stranded in France. Her godfather was sending people over, but it was a moot point. They couldn't protect her.

But Carla Frazetti was not one to sit back and watch the fireworks—she'd be setting some off herself. _All there is to do now_, she reflected, _is wait for the right time_.

Hopefully, before this thing got her shot dead.

**Château Paradizo, France**

Minerva was staring at the computer screen when disaster struck. "Minerva!" Gaspard called, his voice easily carrying up the ornate staircase and into her study. "Our flight was canceled. Some computer error, apparently. I don't know what went wrong."

_He's supposed to be in Marseille with Beau!_ Minerva thought frantically. She leapt out of the chair, racing towards the kitchen. Gaspard continued to speak as he climbed the stairs.

"Minerva, _cherie_? Where are you?"

Minerva ignored her father, throwing open the kitchen doors. Tieve and Vinyáya were sitting at a long table. Apparently she had just walked in on the stern lecture that the commander was giving Tieve—probably something about accidentally blowing people up and the like. Oh well.

Vinyáya was instantly alert, her eyes scanning the room. "Wha--"

Minerva cut her off with a push. "_Entrez dans le cabinet!_" she hissed, slipping into French. Any further protests were stopped when she shoved the pair into the pantry in a very undignified fashion. A split-second later Gaspard poked his head into the kitchen.

"There you are," he said. Then he quirked a brow. "I never knew you for a cook."

Minerva flushed red. "I got a little hungry."

"I see." Gaspard hardly looked convinced, but he dropped the subject. "Our flight was cancelled, so we shall be here for the next few days." He looked at Beau. "Purging this entire house of chocolate."

Beau gave him a look that could peel paint, then screamed as loudly as his five-year-old lungs could muster. Clearly he was not happy at the thought of his sugar being taken away. Minerva grimaced. "I suppose he's over the chest infection, then."

Gaspard sighed. "Don't tease your brother, Minerva." He paused. "Have you made plans for our absence?"

Minerva opened her mouth to answer no, then turned pale. A terrible thought had crossed her mind. "Yes," she said. "_Je suis désolé_—I'm sorry. Visiting an old school friend," she lied.

Gaspard smiled. "Maria?"

"_Oui_. I am actually leaving within the hour."

The Brazillian quirked a brow. "So soon?"

"_Oui, Papa. Désolé._" Minerva silently heaved a sigh of relief when Gaspard shrugged.

"All right. Have a good time."

"Thank you, Papa." Father and son exited the kitchen. Vinyáya was out of the panty in a flash.

"Leaving within the hour? Nice of you to let me know."

Minerva scowled. "Things happened rather quickly. I'm afraid that something may have happened. Or be happening. Or is going to happen. Whatever." She crossed to another cupboard and pulled out a wad of euros, apparently one of many stashes she had around the château. "We need to leave now."

"Where are we going?"

"Marseille."

Vinyáya furrowed her brow. "What's in Marseille?"

"I have sensitive information on a stash of hard drives there. Information too high-risk to be kept here." She obviously was not in the mood to talk.

Vinyáya kept her thoughts to herself as they piled in one of the many luxury SUVs in the Paradizo garage. Later, looking back, she would realize how much of a mistake this was. She should have begged and pleaded and threatened, gotten down on her hands and knees and pulled out her Neutrino.

But she didn't.

* * *

Ooh, cliffhanger.

I was always bummed out that Minerva never got a chance to mature, so I'm giving her one. So, to all of you Minerva-haters– get ready to see your Mary Sue grow up. I am trying to keep this in style with how Colfer matured Artemis, but they are two different people. A side note– places with very specific names (such as the Taiwan Taoyuan International Airport) are real places. Colfer used real places as much as possible, and I'm trying to emulate that. Research was done with Google and Wikipedia. Reviews make me happier than Foaly with a crate of carrots!


	6. Crossroads

Um... please don't kill me. I got sucked into my Kingdom Hearts forum and my muse took a holiday. I am trying to force myself to write. Anyways, here it is-- Chapter Six.

**_Plot Review Thus Far:_**

_Vinyáya and Tieve have taken shelter with Minerva Paradizo. Minerva has left Chateau Paradizo with the two of them, not telling them anything about their destination. Spiro and Kong have made a trip to Marseille, France with the hopes of gathering more demon knowledge. Trouble has been offically charged with the task of hunting down Vinyáya._

* * *

Chapter Six: Crossroads

* * *

**Marseille, France**

Minerva stepped out of a cab, popping open the trunk to take out her 'suitcase.' She absently handed the driver the fee, walking to an imposing wrought-iron gate. Vinyáya shimmered into focus as the cabbie sped away, unwrapping the cam foil from around Tieve.

Minerva took a key out of her purse and unlocked the gate. She heard the two fairies behind her gasp. The entire estate was a rich garden, foliage overflowing in every crevice and cranny. There were vividly colored blooms competing with bright green leaves, specklings of small blossoms and deep crimson ivy slithering up trees. Cobblestone paths and stepping stones wove through the lush greenery. The only sound was the whisper of leaves and the creak of trees in the breeze, swirling crisp autumn leaves around their feet. It was an awe-inspiring sight: something that made you feel like a child.

Vinyáya's eyes fell upon a patch of deep orange tiger lilies, and her breath froze solid in her throat. The edge of the patch was stomped on, as if a scuffle had taken place. Looking father, Vinyáya could see signs of a fight. Something terrible had happened here.

She heard a thump behind her—Minerva had fallen to her knees. She could just barely see a woman lying lifeless behind a clump of red flowers, her hair a shocking mirror of Minerva's own. The traces of blood blended in with the crimson of the roses.

"_Mère_."

**Police Plaza, Haven**

Foaly was not in a good mood.

Maybe it had something to do with the wedding ring poking him in the side (he was planning to propose in a week). It could have been the fact that he was stuck on the dimensional equation. Maybe he hadn't eaten enough breakfast this morning.

Or maybe it was the fact that Sool was mere inches away from his face, poking his odious little cane in Foaly's gas screens, his face scrunched up like a troll's while his devilish mind was churning up ways to put his best friends behind bars for life.

"You've tried getting a lock on her signal?" Sool asked, not caring enough to actually look at the centaur when he asked him a question.

_Of course I did, idiot_. "Yes, I tried. It was getting blacked out by something—we lost Vinyáya shortly after she left HQ."

Sool sniffed. "I'm sure," he drawled, making it obvious that he really wasn't sure at all. "Have you checked the cam-cams?"

"They're scanning as we speak, but picking her out would be like finding a needle in a haystack," Foaly commented. "It would be best," he ventured, "to send in Retrieval."

"I didn't ask what you think would be best," Sool snapped. "Obviously, you're not the one wearing the acorns here." The gnome crossed to the other end of the Ops booth, pensive. Foaly got an uneasy feeling in his gut.

"I'm going to be frank with you, Foaly," he said. Alarm bells went off—Sool called him by his name. Which meant that he was either being incredibly patronizing or he didn't want to have reason for a jury to doubt him when this tape played back later. "The LEP isn't sure if you're acting in our best interest."

"That's completely false! I--"

Sool waved him away like a pesky fly. "I know that you and Vinyáya were fairly close, especially after Commander Root's death. I can understand how such bonds could… cloud the mind."

_I'll give you something to cloud your mind_, Foaly seethed. "I've never given the LEP reason to doubt me," he said, his voice miraculously even.

"True. But then again, why take the chance? The Council has voted to give you an assistant to help with tracking Vinyáya down. She'll be here by lunchtime."

If Foaly had been holding something, he would have dropped it. "_What?!"_

"She was quite happy to help," Sool continued, obviously concealing his joy at finally being able to thwart his bitter enemy. " 'Anything for Foaly,' she said." Foaly forced himself to keep his mouth shut—if he opened it, he'd probably be eating a pink slip. Sool went on. "I think you know her… Caballine, I believe?"

At that moment, Foaly could have sworn that the heavens had opened up, choruses of angels singing down at him. "Ca-Caballine?" he managed.

Sool smiled. Obviously the gnome thought him too distressed to even form an insult. "Yes, Caballine. I'm sure you understand."

Foaly tried to work up righteous indignation while rejoicing inside. "Sure. Whatever."

Sool actually had the gall to rest a hand on his flank. "Glad you understand," he said, Then he exited the room.

Foaly cantered over to the computer, blacked out Operation Booth's tinted windows, and began to dance around the room like a loon. Caballine! They could be together all day, go jogging after work, laugh over lunch breaks-- for a moment, he was a blushing foal again. Sool, idiot that he was, actually thought that Caballine would turn on him in hopes that she could snag her lover's job.

"Well, Sool," Foaly taunted to the imaginary commander, "there's one more reason I'm glad I'm not you. I actually know that not everyone is as heartless as you are."

For the first time in six months, Foaly actually felt as if his life was looking up.

**Marseille, France**

Vinyáya was curled up in an enormous chair, its cushions swallowing the fairy. It was almost comical—almost. The serious expression on the commander's face killed any hint of levity.

She absently cast her eyes down to the holographic screen projected by her helmet. Minerva Paradizo's LEP file. The name "Helen Paradizo" glowed red, and Vinyáya felt her stomach clench. They had found the woman shot dead and left unceremoniously on the dirt, her partner in adultery on the other side of the grounds. Also dead. A terrified cat had shot out of the house when Minerva had unlocked the door, disappearing into the night.

Helen had left a few years after Beau Paradizo's birth, running off with the groundskeeper. It was a terrible cliché, dumping a toddler and an impressionable child genius in the hands of Gaspard Paradizo. Beau did not remember much of his mother—a smile, a fuzzy memory—but Minerva was quite different. As far as Vinyáya could tell, Minerva had unofficially estranged herself from her adulterous parent and refused any type of contact whatsoever.

Vinyáya wanted to hit herself for her stupidity. It was so blaringly obvious now—Minerva had not wanted to talk about her destination in fear of having to admit ties to her mother. Someone with a bone to pick had murdered the pair, and now she was caught in the middle of a human homicide case, renegade with a demon in tow. It was her own fault—she had acted like a rookie and gotten herself into a mess.

Every scrap of police training was screaming at Vinyáya to leave. This was a human situation, and fairies should not get involved in human affairs. But something inside her kept her rooted in the larger-than-life chair. What if this wasn't just a human vendetta? What if someone knew?

_For Frond's sake, Vinyáya_, she chided herself. _You're as paranoid as Foaly_. She would have killed to have five minutes with that centaur at this particular moment. Being stuck alone in a crisis with no intel at all was something that Vinyáya hadn't had to do in five hundred years. She would have to do this the old fashioned way—with a gun at her side and a head on her shoulders. _Who could have done this, and why?_

As if on cue, Minerva entered the living room. "Entered" was too kind of a word, however. More accurately, she threw open the doors so hard that the handle dented the wall behind it. The French girl was clutching a sheaf of papers in her hand as if they were the murderers.

"_How could you?_" she screamed, lapsing into French. "Look at what you've done, you and your stupid bureaucrats! This is an unforgivable lapse. You are unbelievable, you--"

"What in Frond's name are you talking about?" Vinyáya shouted. "What happened?"

Minerva was shaking with rage. "_They weren't mind-wiped_. Spiro and Kong. They're running amok out there, and they'll kill again--"

"Wait, what?" Then the penny dropped. "You think they--" Vinyáya felt the blood drain from her face. "D'arvit."

"Swearing. That's all you can do?" Minerva stalked over to the elf, her entire body taut. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to find comprehensible words in her anger. "Why were they not wiped?"

Vinyáya clenched her fists. "We can't mind wipe the insane. Progressive fairy yuppies have been yammering about human rights and the LEP passed a bill protecting unstable minds being wiped. The science isn't perfected yet and it could have disastrous effects on an abnormal brain. Spiro was diagnosed as insane. We've been trying to isolate Billy Kong to mind-wipe, but it's been difficult to spare the personnel for an insertion team, plus the tight Taiwanese security in Green Island Prison."

Minerva's jaw dropped. "Human rights for _terrorists_?" she spat. "What's next, salt licks for trolls? Taxicabs for felons?"

Vinyáya was at a loss. "I…" She sighed heavily. "I'm sorry about your moth--"

"She is not my mother." Minerva's voice was sharper than a knife and twice as deadly. "Don't you _ever_ say that again."

The room was pin quiet for a moment. Vinyáya opened her mouth to speak when the door suddenly creaked open. Her hand flew for her Neutrino—

"Tieve?" Vinyáya pulled her hand back.

The demoness in question looked up, clutching a sheaf of paper in her hand. Minerva brushed past her and pulled open the door. "Wait!" The French girl paused, and Vinyáya met her eyes. "What are you going to do?"

A cold little smirk ghosted across her face. She had seen that smile on the face of Artemis Fowl during the siege—icy, arrogant, and ruthless. Vinyáya felt a chill skitter down her spine. "We're going to steal back from Spiro what was mine," Minerva said. Then she left. The door slammed shut behind her.

Tieve looked at Vinyáya. "What's with her?" she said in perfect English.

* * *

Two hours later, the trio was in a private cab in a train that was much too jerky for Vinyáya's taste—she felt like a lightning bug in a jar that some little kid was shaking. The whiteout button on Vinyáya's LEP jumpsuit was continuing to come in handy, as it was blocking out the surveillance cameras in the car. Minerva had kept quiet for most of the trip, preferring to type notes into her laptop and scribbling what looked uncomfortably like floor plans in a tablet of graphing paper. Vinyáya took this brief respite to interrogate Tieve.

The commander slid over to the plush seat next to the demoness, who looked slightly uncomfortable. "So—you speak English?"

Tieve blushed crimson. "I—um—I guess so. Didn't really know before."

Vinyáya arched a brow. "You didn't know."

"It sort of just happened. But I couldn't understand the lady at the train station."

The elf thought for a moment, then groaned inwardly. Tieve's magic was just beginning to blossom. And just like human hormones, magic took time to orient itself. The demoness' magic would probably be flickering on and off for a year or two. This wouldn't normally be a problem, but they were not in a normal situation.

Vinyáya sighed. "Your gift of tongues. It's on the fritz—puberty."

"What's fritz? And what's puberty?"

Vinyáya flushed a bit. Giving the 'birds and the bees' talk to a demoness was not something she had prepared for when waking up this morning. "Nevermind. It just means that your magic won't work all the time. So you will be able to understand people sometimes."

Tieve thought on this for a moment, chewing her lip. "I never learned English. They read the females Lady Heartherington Smythe in Gnommish."

_Sexist!_ Vinyáya wanted to shout. But then again, they had been stranded in time for a millennium. What did she expect?

Minerva motioned the pair to her, focused on the glowing screen of her laptop. "I've got our plan," she said, unable to keep a hint of smugness out of her voice. _Teenage genii_.

"Great," Vinyáya said dryly. "Care to share it?"

"Parts," Minerva said brusquely, the insult rolling of her back like water off a rain slicker. "We don't have much time to memorize, so no need to go any more in detail then necessary, _oui_?"

Vinyáya rolled her eyes. "Glad to see you have so much faith in us."

"There are perfect plans, but certainly not perfect people."

"That sounds like someone I know."

Minerva's mouth turned up a bit at the edge. "Great minds think alike. Sometimes, at least. Artemis had the same idea."

Vinyáya detected a very subtle change in her voice when she said "Artemis," and filed that tidbit of information away for later. She did not need teenage girl hormones messing up an already delicate situation. Although for someone who's mother just died, Minerva seemed fairly calm. Their relationship must have been rocky at best. But no matter what the girl said, Vinyáya couldn't believe that the death of parent hadn't left more of a mark. Too many questions and too few answers.

"All right then, let's hear this brilliant plan," Vinyáya said. Then she switched to Gnommish. "Tieve, did you catch any of that?"

The demoness shook her head. Her gift was out. _Lovely_. "Pauses so that I can translate, please."

Minerva scowled. "It would have been nice if she'd told me earlier than she could understand French."

"Well, to a thirty-year-old, you can be a little intimidating."

Minerva decided to let the comment slide. She pulled up a window on the computer screen, plugging in a fiber optics cable to Vinyáya's helmet into a port. A 3D floor plan flickered into life through the helmet lens. "We are headed for Lyon, third-largest city in France. Lyon is famous for its silk, gastronomy, and cinema. I believe that this is where Spiro and Kong are hiding."

Vinyáya gave her a quizzical look. "The headquarters of Interpol is in Lyon. Do you really think they're crazy enough to camp there?"

"It is not that hard to believe," Minerva replied. "Spiro is already clinically insane, and _Mousier_ Kong is surely close."

"Crazy, surely, but stupid?"

The blonde shrugged. "Perhaps not. The LEP wouldn't want to stage a retrieval in the middle of international authority headquarters. Even the best fairy cover-up would still be thoroughly scrutinized. And Spiro thinks that we won't try anything too risky, knowing that mistake means death or fairy exposure."

Vinyáya felt an uneasy rolling in her gut. "He _thinks_ we won't."

Minerva smiled, showing her teeth. "But we will."

"You're making me nervous."

"Good," Minerva said. "The madder this is, the more of a chance we have that Spiro has not calculated for it." She turned back to the computer. "Now, back to the plan. I've hacked into French databases and found that office space was recently rented out to two suspicious characters. Satellite has shown them to be Kong and Spiro. They are currently on the eighteenth floor of this building. No one is using the floors above them, but all of the lower spaces are filled."

Vinyáya paused, relaying bits and pieces to Tieve. After several moments, she signaled Minerva to continue.

"We are going to go to this building, then split up. I will walk up like the normal human I am, and you and Tieve will fly up the building in cam foil. I can get into the main foyer, to Spiro's computer lab."

"How do you plan to do this?"

"What does it matter?" She shrugged, her blonde curls bouncing. "I'll get there."

Vinyáya snorted, as if commenting just how much faith she had in the French's petite little figure in a fight. Minerva ignored her and went on. "Tieve will find a suitable hiding place. I will keep Spiro and Kong busy while you send a data charge I have created into the computers. It will burn anything that Spiro has created, whether it is on a local hard drive or once on the Caymans. Rather distressing for him. Then, after a quick search for the safe, you will go back to Tieve."

More translation. "All right, Mud Girl," Vinyáya said. "What then?"

Minerva leaned forward conspiratorially. "Once you have rejoined with Tieve, you will give me a signal—flash your helmet light, break a vase. Whatever. Then, Tieve will send is exactly ten seconds into the past. Spiro and Kong go looking, we reappear when they are gone, and walk out unharmed." She leaned back, pleased with herself.

Vinyáya's jaw dropped. "You want her to _what_?"

"I know it is illegal in fairy laws," the girl said, "but since we are not currently bound by them I--"

"No way. There is absolutely _no way_. It's not only illegal but immoral and dangerous. Think up another plan."

Minerva scowled. "There is no other plan. We're about as bulletproof as spongecake, unless you happen to have full-body Kevlar suits tucked away somewhere. I don't think they want to sit down for cookies and tea."

Tieve tugged on Vinyáya's sleeve, curious as to what the fuss was about. "There has to be another way," Vinyáya said. The desperation in her voice repulsed her.

"There isn't," Minerva said simply. "We can go with either certain death or only possible death. Your choice."

And that wasn't a choice at all.

* * *

Three hours later, they had arrived in Lyon. Minerva was crouched in a clump of bushes, sorting out a few pieces of equipment she'd picked up in a hardware store. _I need to purchase a car,_ she thought idly. All this skulking around in shrubbery wasn't doing wonders for her dignity. She'd rather be in the back of some limousine—with Butler in the front, reassuring her.

The bodyguard had become one of the closest things Minerva had to a friend shortly after Artemis' disappearance—which was surprising, really. In addition to being responsible for the disaster, Minerva and the huge Eurasian had only their tenacity in common. She supposed he'd felt sorry for her; it was the only reason she could imagine why he stuck around. But in any case, Butler soon began inviting her over during holidays. Minerva vaguely wondered if he'd finished _To Kill A Mockingbird_ yet.

Vinyáya's voice snapped her back to reality. "Ready, Mud Girl?"

"I don't call you Fairy Woman, do I?"

"I think it'd be a compliment," the elf retorted, slinging on a backpack. She checked her watch. "It's 4:12. I'm going up. Three minutes, and you enter." She activated the cam foil and was gone within a few seconds.

_You don't need to tell me my own plan_, Minerva thought irritably. The first shivers of fear had began to flutter in her stomach. This was different than when Kong had attacked her father—there had been no option to run away. She didn't know what exactly she had been getting into. But now… this was something she had planned intricately. She knew exactly the reception that was waiting for her—dangerous men with guns, ready to squeeze her for information before they killed her. _Surely anyone would be nervous_, Minerva tried to reassure herself. _It's perfectly normal._

If only Butler was at her side. But he couldn't help her now—no one could. Her own fate rested on her own shoulders now. For perhaps the first time in her life, Minerva not only felt alone but was alone. Truly and completely.

The watch on her wrist flashed gently. 4:15— time to go.

* * *

Semi-cliffie, sorry about that. It's proven that with more reivews, I will update faster! Even if they're death threats. So please review... PLEASE.

-Akiko


	7. The Best Laid Plans

(cowers)

Don't kill me. My muse is back, thanks be to God! I was in hot water there for awhile. Thanks for everyone who's still with me; I love you guys. For your convenience, here's a story summary thus far.

_**Summary Thus Far:**_

_Wing Commander Vinyáya has been charged with the care of a young demoness named Tieve. Trouble Kelp has snagged Tieve from the timestream. After it is revealed that Tieve may be a soceress, Ark Sool attempts to lock her up. Vinyáya flees aboveground to the one human with enough knowledge to help her– Minerva Paradizo. The unlikely threesome travel to Minerva's mother's house, only to find her murdered. Billy Kong has broken criminal mastermind Jon Spiro out of prison, and together with reluctant henchperson Carla Frazetti they have discovered Tieve. They are looking to capture Tieve and Minerva for their own game. Trouble Kelp has been commanded to bring back Vinyáya and Tieve, but is torn between loyalties._

_Minerva has developed a plan to reclaim fairy files stolen by Kong, Frazetti, and Spiro. This chapter picks up where we left off in Chapter Six._

* * *

**Chapter Seven: The Best Laid Plans**

* * *

**Marseille, France**

Trouble Kelp leaned against a wrought-iron railing, lost in thought. His perch afforded him a resplendent view of Helen Paradizo's garden, but that was hardly his interest at the moment. The garden home had been deserted—although it was clear that someone had been living there not too long before. As he had suspected, there was no trace of Vinyáya. But Trouble Kelp knew his teacher better than that—she had always drilled it into them to cover their tracks. The fact that nothing suggested the commander had stayed there was perhaps the most compelling piece of evidence that she in fact had.

Chix Verbil came up on one side of him. "Corporal Kelp positively identified the body of Helen Paradizo at a nearby morgue, Major," he said. "The humans do not have the identity as of now. Minerva must have wanted to avoid makin' a fuss."

Trouble nodded. Chix hovered by his side awkwardly. "Major," he said finally, his eyes clouded with indecision. "It doesn't make any sense. Why would Vinyáya run? And why would she follow the girl here?"

Kelp folded his arms, sighing. "I don't know yet. There's something going on here that we're missing. Something bad must have happened." He switched the subject. "Have the techies found anything on the computers?"

Chix shrugged. "Don't know yet. Roob said something about a virus and getting a lock on the source."

The major nodded. "All right. Dismissed."

Chix gave a small salute before spreading his wings, looping lazily over the low roof and out of sight. _He always was a showoff_, Trouble reflected idly.

In truth, Vinyáya's actions troubled him more than he had let on. Kelp had no doubt that Vinyáya was in sound mind and doing what she felt was best for the People. What concerned him more was the unknown quantity, what had happened that had made Vinyáya leave so quickly with Paradizo. Questions that Trouble knew could change fairy civilization as they knew it.

He sighed. Didn't Holly normally deal with all the 'save the world' stuff?

**Durand Business Complex, Lyon, France**

Minerva was nervous.

Not a 'test-stress' nervous, or a 'I hope this experiment goes well' nervous. It was more like a 'I hope I'm still alive in an hour' kind of nervous. She tried to keep it out of her face—who knew if Kong and Spiro had planted people in the facility? Her analytical mind instantly began calculating the number of weapons that were pointed at her right now, the likelihood that they would kill her in the next five steps—

_Mon Dieu, Minerva. You are acting like a little child._ It was a simple plan, really. Go to target. Distract target, get objective. Leave. Three little steps. There was no time to rethink it now, anyway.

The elevator dinged, and Minerva stepped in. Floor-to-ceiling mirrors reflected her tense frame from every angle. Silently, she checked her jewelry. Nothing silver—good. That would not help her plan. A knife was strapped to her wrist, and she could feel her own pulse flush against the blade. It was a morbid reminder of how close death really was.

The double doors opened, and she was there. A man Minerva recognized as Spiro was looking intently into a computer, Kong watching over his shoulder. The sight of Kong's peacock hair sent a million nasty memories through her mind, filling her with fear and fury. She spotted a tiny flicker in a corner—so Vinyáya and Tieve were in place.

Kong turned, catching sight of Minerva. His mouth twisted into an ugly little smile, confirming that he was not at all surprised to see her there. "Paradizo," he intoned. His voice was honey smooth—like how a snake slithers to its prey. _And then the snake kills it_, Minerva thought, slightly hysterical. _Just like he's going to kill you. This was a stupid plan. Stupid, stupid, stupid--_

Jon Spiro snapped out of his reverie, turning away from the computer screen. He casually removed a cigar tin from his pocket, selecting one and lighting the end. Why should he hurry? Not like she could go anywhere. "You were here a little sooner than I expected."

_Get a hold of yourself. _"It seems your expectations were fatally flawed."

"Fatally?" Spiro laughed. It was reedy, like a rusty squeezebox that had sat in an attic for years. "Well, I suppose delusion comes with genius. I doubt you're quicker on the draw than our mutual acquaintance Mr. Kong."

_You may not die now_, she thought murderously, _but you won't have long to wait_. Spiro sucked on his cigar. "I'm not going to make the same mistake twice," he informed her. "Kong. Root out her friends, will you?"

His flippant tone was lost on the Taiwanese man, who was just itching to mutilate something. He stalked off into the other room, searching for accomplices. _Get rid of Kong: check_. The Mafia woman (Carla something) sat at another computer, utterly indifferent to the scene before her.

Spiro pulled a gun out of his lapel, loading it lazily. "Now I'm going to upset your plan a bit," he said. "I'm sure your little genius mind assumed that we would just capture you and force you to help us with the temporal spells. But that would be incorrect."

Minerva paled, feeling her pulse quicken against the knife. "You'll never get it before Artemis returns. With my help, maybe you could. All I want is Artemis's life. You can kill the rest." _Vinyáya, hurry up._

He laughed again, and Minerva cringed. "You're one after my own heart. Trying to bargain when empty-handed." He shook his head, almost regretful. "No, sorry. I have my eyes on a bigger prize than Fowl's life alone." He paused, savoring his next words. "The demoness."

"Care to explain?" The oldest trick in the book, and one that Spiro would definitely see though. But curiosity drove her to it.

He grinned. "Power over time, _mademoiselle_. Use your imagination."

Something clicked. "You're going to go back to the Needle. The Cube."

"Among other things," Spiro confirmed. "It doesn't take a genius to figure that out. I've got all the knowledge I need. Which makes you superfluous." What in the heck was Vinyáya doing, tatting lace? Tieve was obviously having a hard time getting her magic to flow. And her own time was fast running out.

Spiro released the safety catch. "That's the thing with you and Fowl," he remarked. "You never want to take the plunge. Snuff someone out. It's not a big deal once you do." He shook his head. "You devise all these complicated plans so that no one's gotta die. Well, let me save you some time—when people like you are around, people with your intellect—people are going to die. Fact of life." Minerva could slowly feel her calm ebbing away. How many people had she put in danger? Her mother was already lying in a morgue somewhere because of her stupidity. What about Beau, what about her father? "You and Fowl…" Spiro drawled, "…you guys need a couple of tries to get things right. But me…" He cocked the gun. "I only need one shot."

He fired.

There was a huge WHUMP and three piercing screams. The magical overspill from Tieve's spell threw both Spiro and Carla into the wall, with Carla's leg snapping in an unhealthy way—scream number one. Tieve was crumpled on the ground, unconscious and in pain. Scream number two. A ripping, burning pain set Minerva's shoulder on fire—scream number three.

But she was still here, in this time. Something had gone horribly wrong, and her mind instantly realized that her worst fears had been realized. Minerva moved as quickly as she was able, throwing the demoness over her good shoulder and scrambling for the stairs. Vinyáya was gone. This was not good, not good… she was off, spinning in the dark realms of panic. Spiro with all of his stupid death-talk had driven her halfway insane. Is that a skill you got when you finally went mad—being able to lure others into the same fate?

She frantically hit the GROUND FLOOR button on the elevator, watching the doors slide close as Billy Kong threw open a door so hard the glass window shattered. He was too late. Minerva slid down the wall, taking huge breaths. _Spiro is a lunatic. Don't listen to him. All you have to do is get out of this building and into a safe place. Easy. You knew this could happen, didn't you? Even if the possibility was infinitesimally small. You have a plan. There's always a plan._

She could feel her hysteria ebbing away. Minerva had perhaps ten seconds before the elevator doors opened, plus the ride back up and down for Kong to follow her. Plenty of time. She dug their last sheet of cam-foil out of her pocket, covering Tieve just as the elevator stopped. She exited the building in a daze and hailed a cab.

Minerva's mind was handling half a dozen issues at one time. But the thought that sat at the front of her mind was one desperate plea: _help!_

**Unknown Location, Unknown Time**

Vinyáya felt massive pressure all around her, elfin ears threatening to pop. _Something went wrong_, she thought, but was stopped from elaborating on that thought. Because she couldn't breathe.

Underwater. She was underwater, presumably drowning. Frantically she looked about, spotting the surface of the water and kicking toward it for all she had. But it was impossibly far away, and the commander had used up half her oxygen simply identifying her situation. It was looking as if this mistake would likely kill her.

The water pulled at her legs, trying to suck her down into black depths. The edges of her vision were graying, and her lungs burned like an unholy fire. She had to breathe, had to inhale. Water, air, whatever.

Unable to resist, Vinyáya pulled in a frantic breath, and the pain hit her lungs like a troll's charge. It was a white-hot blazing wall of fire that hurt more than anything she'd ever felt. The surface was still impossibly far. Somehow she was still moving, her legs working on autopilot, her arms scrambling for purchase that didn't exist in liquid. But it was futile. Muscles couldn't run without oxygen, and that was in short supply.

Vinyáya managed one last kick, desperately straining for the surface. She broke the water and tried to gasp, but still couldn't breathe. Bending double, Vinyáya vomited water and bile, trying to clear her lungs, sucking in air. Her limbs still felt like lead, but worked on autopilot. It seemed her brain wasn't wasting any precious oxygen to register pain.

Vinyáya floated there for awhile, trying to form coherent thoughts. _I'm alive. _Good, there's one. _I'm alone._ Not as comforting, but still a thought. _I don't know where or when I am._ Three in a row! She was on a roll.

She took stock around her, which look less than ten seconds. Surrounding her was miles and miles of uninterrupted water, save but for one geothermal energy plant to the northwest. Definitely not anywhere near Lyon. Fear tightened her gut, but Vinyáya reined it in expertly. No time to panic. It was easy—go to the plant. Get a calendar. Radio the LEP.

And after that was all done, she was going to _kill_ Minerva.

Vinyáya struck out for the plant, taking it slowly and mulling over her situation as she swam. Tieve hadn't been able to control her magic under such intense pressure. Instead of the spell unfolding naturally, it spewed all over the place like a shaken-up soda. But neither Tieve nor Minerva were here with her, which likely meant that they had been left behind in the present. Future. Whatever. She was truly alone. And if Foaly's calculations were correct, she was stranded in this time forever.

_Foaly's been wrong before_, Vinyáya told herself as she climbed up onto the plant. _Minerva's a genius, and Trouble will probably find them soon. They'll find a way._

The base was poorly staffed, so Vinyáya just stuck to the shadows instead of marinating a full-blown shield. She hijacked a battery, jamming it into her communicator and promptly broadcasting a distress signal. Help would arrive in minutes.

Vinyáya then applied herself to finding an office. She checked several doors before finally striking gold. At least these humans were actually trying to develop alternate energy sources instead of using up all their natural resources. Vinyáya glanced at a calendar and caught her breath. Instead of being sent back ten seconds, she'd been sent back ten years.

Her mind was still processing this as the door opened. "LEP assistance, responding to call," a familiar voice said. She turned and saw the face she'd cried for since his death.

Julius Root.

* * *

Cliffhanger?

Oh yeah.

Review and I will kiss your feet and give you chocolate.


	8. Mantain

Hello to all new reviewers! Thanks for keeping me on track. Here's the next chapter... it's one of my favorites so far. Japanese was taken from Clavell's _Shogun_.

* * *

**Chapter Eight: Maintain**

* * *

**Outside Lyon**

Minerva watched the demoness awaken, her eyes flickering open slowly. She moaned—although 'moan' seemed to crude a word. It was more akin to the mewing of a kitten. The girl looked up, her big brown eyes meeting Minerva's and saying something in garbled Gnommish.

Minerva shrugged helplessly, then clutched at her shoulder, her wound still aching. Of all the times for her gift of tongues to be out. Tieve looked around her and Minerva could see the panic in her eyes as she registered the absence in the party. More Gnommish.

"I can't understand you, all right?" she snapped. Tieve looked away, and Minerva instantly felt guilty. Not guilty enough to say sorry, though. Instead she opted to stare moodily out the window and rub at her overly-medicated shoulder. Homemade sutures and overdoses of painkillers weren't enough to heal the bullet wound.

There was no doubt about it—as much as Minerva hated to admit it, this situation had gotten too big for her to handle on her own. She needed help. Unfortunately, the list of people that were willing and able to help her was painfully short. This left her with a limited set of options.

Minerva knew that an LEP officer would be tracking her party. Normally, she would have just bunked down in a hotel for a couple of days and wait for the officers to catch up—but she didn't have a few days, not if Kong and Spiro had a thing to say about it. She needed someplace secure to stay while waiting for the LEP, and a way of getting them to find her quickly.

So Minerva came to a very obvious solution: detonate a pipe bomb.

**The Past, Police Plaza**

Vinyáya was curled up in a plush chair like a civet cat, a blanket wrapped around her sodden frame. At least Julius wasn't the type of person to mind water dripping on his carpet. Being in the office was playing havoc with her emotions, already strained from time-travel, stress, and an overall bad day. The cigar smoke hung so thick in the room as to almost be visible. Julius' desk was neat as always. There were absolutely no knick-knacks—just some files (stacked neatly), some pens (lined up in a row), a phone (cord completely untangled), and an ashtray (obviously used.)

And then herself, a complete mess. Fitting in nicely as always.

Julius entered the office, shutting his door for privacy. "Vinyáya," he said. "What in the heck happened to you?"

She looked at him and her heart twisted violently. "I… um--" _Oh, suck it up, you lovesick twit! You're a better liar than that._ "I got off-track. My wing rig fell apart and I had to make an emergency landing."

Root contemplated this, clamping a cigar between his teeth but considerately leaving it unlit. "I see. Everything was going as planned, otherwise?"

"Yes." There was an awkward silence, highlighted by the steady plopping of water on the carpet. He coughed.

"Julius?" Vinyáya said tentatively. "I…" She looked downward, trying to will away the image of the commander with a bomb strapped to his chest, trapped in the tunnels with Holly pointing her Neutrino at his chest… "Can we talk tonight?"

Julius looked surprised. "Talk? Er, sure. I mean, absolutely." He ground out the cigar. "How about Tick-Tocks?"

The restaurant he had picked was fairly quiet, suiting Vinyáya nicely. "That sounds good. I'll meet you there at seven."

"Nonsense. I'll pick you up." Vinyáya's feminist streak kicked in and she eyed Julius. He waved her away. "No offense, but you don't exactly seem composed enough to drive."

"Thanks," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Julius chuckled, and for a moment things were just like before. And then she realized that like it or not, he was dead.

Vinyáya rose and wrung out her hair. "See you then," she said. And when she walked out the door, Vinyáya couldn't help glancing back.

**Villeurbanne, France (Two Miles Outside Lyon)**

Trouble munched on a protein bar absently, skimming through the LEP data base. Human television droned at a low volume, creating a comforting undercurrent of sound to muffle out the sounds of his officers loudly enjoying their lunch. "Where are you, Vinyáya?" he mumbled. "You could have made yourself a little easier to follow."

"… _bomb exploded outside a bakery today…"_

Bomb? That caught Kelp's attention. He shifted his focus to the television, watching a brunette reporter stride amidst broken glass and debris from a pastry shop. _"This bakery was the target of more teenage violence today. Near two o' clock a homemade pipe bomb exploded, miraculously injuring none. The suspect was apprehended at the scene."_ The camera switched to grainy tape, with a girl's face blurred out.

Trouble groaned. There was no mistaking those blonde ringlets. Minerva was shown dutifully climbing into a squad car with her hands cuffed behind her. _"The suspect is being moved to a police holding facility pending trial. There's no word on whether or not charges will be pressed…"_

The major rose from his seat and opened the door. "Chix! Get in here!"

The pixie scrambled into the room, downing the remainder of a bottle of nettle beer. "Found her, sir?"

"Yes. Change course to the Villeurbanne Police Station."

"Police station?" Verbil paled. "They didn't find out…?"

Trouble shook his head ruefully. "She wanted us to find her. Blew up a bomb to get herself on the news."

"A _bomb_?" Chix laughed. "They said there was a thin line between genius and insanity. I hope the little chick hasn't gone over it!"

--

Twenty minutes later, Minerva was squished between several pixies who didn't seem to grasp the concept that they were a different species and therefore could not have romantic relations. A medic was seeing to her arm (with much more touching that was needed, in her opinion) while Trouble Kelp grilled her.

"Look," she said, brushing off the pixie. "There's not much time. We need to get Vinyáya back and--"

Trouble's eyes narrowed into slits. "Get her back? Where is she?"

Minerva blinked, then rubbed at her eyes wearily. "It's a long story. She's in the past, but I have a plan--"

The major's breath left him with a whoosh, leaving behind a red curtain of fury. He put up a hand, stopping Minerva from speaking. He took several moments to regain his composure.

"_Vous avez besoin de repos_," he said stiffly. "You need a rest. Get some sleep and we'll talk later."

"_Mais_--"

"_Maintenant_." His tone brooked no argument. Cowed for the moment, Minerva slunk off, retreating to the bunks. Trouble sunk into his chair and kneaded his forehead. Vinyáya, his ace in the hole—gone. Vanished into the timestream, probably stuck there.

It was times like these where Trouble could understand why Julius had taken up smoking. Something, _anything_ to relieve the stress.

He looked up to see Tieve in a corner, studying the flashing lights of the cockpit's dashboard with great curiosity. Streaks of color painted her face, chiaroscuro calling attention to the rounded cheeks and showing how young she really was. Trouble studied her for a moment, sighing inwardly. She was too young to be involved in any of this—and yet, they needed her too much to just let her be.

Trouble approached her slowly. She turned, giving him a small, shy smile. "_Konichiwa_," she said. "_Ikaga desu ka_?"

"_Okagesana de genki desu. Anata wa_?" he answered, answering her automatically. Trouble was impressed: speaking Japanese was one thing. But speaking it with almost no accent and with the correct politeness level (so important to the Japanese) was something.

Trouble cleared his throat. "Gnommish, please? Mud Man gives me a headache."

Tieve looked surprised. "Oh. Yes. Of course."

"You didn't know you were speaking Japanese?"

"I guess I didn't notice. It'll go away soon anyways," she said noncommittally.

"Go away?" he asked.

The demoness shrugged. "The talking thing goes away sometimes. I don't know why."

Trouble went over to the cooler, unscrewing a bottle of water. "It's your magic. You haven't… well… hit puberty yet. The flow isn't consistent."

"Puberty?"

Trouble colored. "Um, yes. You'll have to ask Vinyáya about that."

She started. "You know where she is? Where is she? I need to talk to her!"

"No." Trouble averted his eyes. "We don't know where she is. I'm sorry."

Tieve wilted like a dying flower. "Oh. Okay." There was a long, awkward silence.

"Did I do it?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"It wasn't your fault."

"But I did," Tieve said. Her voice was heavy, matching Trouble's mood. Which pretty much summed up the day.

**Tick Tock's, Haven City**

Vinyáya wiped her mouth with a napkin, sneaking a glance Julius. He looked just like she remembered, smelled just like she remembered. Tanned skin and cigar smoke. Normally they would be talking each others' pointy ears off—but Vinyáya was still seeing Julius' corpse, and Julius wasn't into talking to himself.

She lifted her soda towards her absently, then was jerked into the present. "Oh!" The cola spilled all over the table, and they both lunged for napkins.

"Sorry! I wasn't even paying attention--"

"It's not a big deal."

"I hope they don't charge us…"

In a horribly clichéd moment, their hands met. Except unlike most romance movies, they were holding soggy napkins. "Sorry," she repeated for the hundredth time.

"Vinyáya." Julius' tone was serious. She looked up at him. "What's going on?"

"Nothing's going on!" she shouted, suddenly desperate. "For Frond's sake, Julius, will you just let it _be_?"

He stared at her, and neither of them spoke for several seconds. It was one of the awkward, hated silences that happened when neither would back down. Vinyáya squared her shoulders and turned up her famous stare.

"Fine," he said abruptly. Grabbing at the bill, he scrawled a signature and left his payment in cash. "Let's go."

He stood up without looking to see if she was even following.

Swallowing hard, Vinyáya followed him like a whipped puppy. He was driving her absolutely insane. She couldn't tell him, there was no way. It was illegal and wrong and ten kinds of terrible. But seeing Julius with such betrayal in his eyes was almost more than she could take. They walked on in silence. If there had been any cans on the sidewalk, Vinyáya would have kicked them.

Julius turned a sharp left into what must have been a shortcut. The alley was dark, and Vinyáya's breath hitched in her throat. Her hand brushed her hip unconsciously, feeling the smoothness of the burnished metal handle of her blaster.

It didn't help her much.

Julius pinned her against the wall, covering her hand with her mouth to muffle a scream. "Listen!" The plea was the only thing that saved him from a jab to a nerve center. Vinyáya watched him through narrow, defiant eyes.

He lifted his hand from her mouth. "There aren't any cameras here. I know because I fired the pixie who slacked on the instillation job."

Vinyáya kept her mouth clamped shut, not trusting herself to speak. At the rate this evening was going, her voice would probably trigger a bomb and half the block would be blown to smithereens. Julius sighed. "I know, Vinyáya. You're from the future." He answered the unspoken question in her eyes. "Your hair. It's three inches longer and it's not dyed."

Her eyes shut tightly and she battled an overwhelming sense of failure. Her hair. She'd always hated it. She should have shaved her head, become a monk. Get away from this. Get away from everything…

"I'm sorry." Pathetic as it was, that was the only thing Vinyáya could manage. Julius' brow furrowed.

"For what?" he asked.

She met his eyes. _Because you're dead. Because I wasn't even there to say goodbye. Because I'm a terrible friend_. _There's a million things to be sorry for, stupid._

Neither of them had moved. Julius' arms still caged her against the wall, and as she brought her chin up to speak she was startled at their close proximity. His breath was feather-light on her cheeks, and the heady aroma of cigar smoke and cinnamon permeated the air. Vinyáya's words died on her lips, and the leaned forward involuntarily. Their noses brushed, and Julius's hand went to her waist.

Then sirens went off everywhere.

The moment deflated like a balloon, and Vinyáya relaxed muscles that she hadn't even realized were tight. "D'arvit," Julius growled. The low rumble sent tremors down her spine. Hastily she ducked out from beneath his arms, unconsciously touching her palm to her face to cool her burning cheeks.

"Sirens. Mud Men?"

"I doubt it," he replied. "More like a paranoid centaur."

She wasn't sure whether to thank Foaly later, or to shove him into a dwarf bar and let them have their way with him. The pair obediently began directing traffic, showing civilians to shelters until the warning expired. Red lights bathed the streets in an eerie glow. And when Vinyáya cast a glance at Julius, she was struck with a sudden vision of blood.

* * *

I love Vinyáya and Root. Review please?


End file.
